


Lux In Tenebris Sum

by mixiz877



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Archangel Castiel, Badass Henry, Badass Mary, Croatoan Virus references, Flashbacks, Hero Dean, Hurt Dean, Hurt Sam, Limp Sam, Minor Character Death, Spells & Enchantments, The Colt (Supernatural), Time Travel, Tortured Sam, Zombie soldiers, limp dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6807268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixiz877/pseuds/mixiz877
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S11E18: The boys find a way to kill Amara, but when has a solution to a problem ever come easy for them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going AU from S11E18 onwards. The boys find a way to kill Amara, but of course it doesn't come easy. Title means "I'm the light in the darkness" in Latin. All lore related stuff is half researched, half made up. Don't sue me. It's fan fiction! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing supernatural.

Dean was stretched out on his bed, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were revolving on how to clean up the mess they were in. Every time him and Sam cleaned up one mess, they somehow stumbled onto or created an even bigger one. Latest one went by the name of Amara, big sister of God.

The older Winchester brother chuckled humorlessly. Such a pretty mess. And what made it worse was the attraction he felt towards Amara. He didn't ask for it, he couldn't shake it and he sure as hell couldn't end her. He had tried - and failed.

Dean sighed and sat up. It was no use, he couldn't sleep anyways. Getting up, he shuffled across his room, not bothering to put shoes on his sock clad feet. The bunker had a nice temperature and t-shirt, jeans and socks were enough to keep him warm. And he wouldn't wake Sam.

To make sure his little brother would get all the sleep he needed, Dean decided to head towards the other side of a bunker. He couldn't believe there were still corners in the building that they hadn't really explored yet. This bunker was just too big, but it was their bat cave. The library was almost it's biggest asset, containing much more lore and information than his geek brother could dig up online.

Passing the entry to the garage, Dean resisted the urge to go work on his beloved Impala, his Baby. He couldn't, however, resist taking a peek. Flipping the switch to provide light, Dean smiled when the sleek contures of his Baby melted from the darkness, softly reflecting the light. This car was the most important constant in his life next to Sam.

Lovingly, Dean ran his fingertips softly along the strong frame as he strode by, feeling the smoothness of the polished vehicle. The hunter then leaned against the wall, facing the interior of the garage so he could make out all twenty-odd cars they had come across when they first had explored the bunker.

After a while just staring at the 67 Impala, Dean decided to head back to the library to do what they had already done countless times - search for any kind of lore on Amara, the Darkness. As Dean's hand flipped the switch again he heard an electrical crackling and all lights faded.

"Crap," Dean muttered. Somehow he had tripped the fuse. Luckily his phone was in his pocket and he pulled it out to make use of the flashlight app. He made his way to the control room to activate the main controls again.

A frown formed on his face when he realized there was nothing out of sorts, though. The main control was activated. Where was the back-up box again? A tiny beep informed Dean that his phone's battery wouldn't last much longer.

"Double crap," he muttered again, sounding a tad more annoyed even than the first time. "Don't die on me, yet."

But the battery had other ideas. Granted, it certainly wasn't the best anymore and that flashlight app was zapping energy like crazy. Just when Dean had made out the elusive back-up box, the beep sounded again and the light went out.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cussed. At least he knew where the box was and, stretching out one hand, he navigated the inky blackness to feel out the cabinet. His fingers found the lever and he pulled open the door. Next he carefully felt his way across numerous tiny switches, all pointing up, trying to find the one - or more - pointing down.

His fingertips brushed across some piece of paper, causing Dean to frown, but he didn't let it distract him from his task. Finally, the last two levers happened to be out of line and he fixed the problem. Instantly the lights switched on again, and the control room buzzed to life.

A satisfied smile ghosted over Dean's features but was replaced with a curious frown when Dean's green eyes fell onto the rolled up piece of paper his fingers had brushed. Carefully, he retrieved the scroll which was wedged between the fuses. It looked old and like it belonged in the library.

The page was rolled up, sealed with rope and had five symbols on the front of it. Dean squinted but found that, despite the familiar appearance of the signs he had no idea what type of writing it was. He did however realize that the first, third and fifth symbol were identical, resembling the letter A. The second looked like a backwards P and the fourth like a messed up W.

Something about it looked familiar and Dean frowned as he carried the scroll back to the library for further inspection. In the back of his mind was a niggling voice telling him he'd seen this type of writing before.

***sn***

Sam woke up with a start, unable to tell what really woke him. It was quiet. As much as he strained his ears, he couldn't make out any kind of noise. Noise? Sam sat up straight. This was the bunker, and as much as it had gadgets that Sam wouldn't have thought the people who built it years and years ago had access to, it was old and there was always the almost undiscernable humming of electricity in the air. At least when the lights in the passage where on, which they always were when the boys were home. Only now there was nothing.

Swinging his long legs out of bed, Sam grabbed his gun and flashlight and quietly made his way to his room's door. The passage was dark. It wasn't supposed to be dark. Readying himself for anything, Sam pushed the door open and inched his way towards his brother's room.

Dean's door stood open and one glance inside provided Sam with the knowledge that Dean wasn't there. Sam swallowed and snuck onwards, gun at the ready. He was half way to the kitchen when the lights came back on again. The younger Winchester flattened himself against the wall, gun held up, ears strained to pick up even the slightest noise.

Soft footsteps resounded in the distance, headed towards the library. Equally quiet, Sam made his way in the same direction. When he reached the library, Sam froze in the door frame. Dean was crouched over something on the table in front of him. A cursory check of the room told Sam that Dean was alone and he relaxed.

"What's that you got there?" Sam asked as he approached his brother, tucking his gun in the back of his pants. Dean looked up, and if he was surprised to find his brother there, he didn't show it.

"Hey," he greeted. "Found this in the back-up fuse box. Sam, I think I might have stumbled across something here."

Sam frowned slightly, hearing the subliminal excitement in Dean's voice. "How so?"

"Amara," Dean simply said.

"Amara?" Sam repeated. Dean nodded and pointed at the still rolled up scroll. Sam picked it up and scrutinized the word scribbled on the surface.

"Dean, at best this word here would say 'apawa', and I couldn't even begin to provide the possible meanings. This looks like someone scribbled it down rather hastily. The w is all messed up, the p is backwards... so maybe it's even an untidy d. Apawa, adawa... Amara?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up at Sam's words and a smile spread across his face, growing wider with each word Sam uttered.

"What?" Sam couldn't keep an irritable vibe out of his voice. Dean was looking at him in a way that Sam didn't like at all, almost like a teacher would look at an ignorant child.

"This is precious," Dean grinned, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I know something my geek brother doesn't. Is that how you feel all the time, Sammy?"

"What?" Sam repeated, feeling exasperation creeping up his spine.

"Let me savour this," Dean declared, taking a deep breath and putting on a smug smile. "This, little brother, is Etruscan. The Etruscan letters are similar but not identical to ours. While the A is practically the same, the M resembles a W and the R looks like a mirrored P..."

"Which would still make this word Arama, not Amara," Sam interjected.

"Ah, but Sammy, don't you know the Etruscans were writing right to left?"

"They were?"

Dean nodded.

"Alright, Dean, how do you know about Etruscan?"

Sam was curious. He'd always thought Dean wasn't really interested in stuff like that.

"Hey, just because you went to Stanford doesn't mean I never learned anything, Samantha. I read. I research. And I remember things. This, I remember because Caleb had a book on Etruscan and he had me search out things in it for him which he needed for a case."

"Wow, Dean, I have to say, I'm impressed."

Sam saw Dean snort and shook his head.

"No, really, Dean. I know you're not dumb, but this isn't every day hunter stuff or thereabouts. Sure, I heared about Etruscans once or twice, but I never knew anything about their writing. Is the rest of the scroll in Etruscan, too?"

"Let's find out," Dean said and carefully removed the ancient rope that held the paper together. Meanwhile Sam had fired up his laptop and pulled up a few pages on Etruscan translation. The brothers studied the neatly written page for well over an hour, Dean putting down the words on a note block, Sam looking up the translation. Finally they stuck their heads together, deciphering the context. When they reached the end of the manuscript they looked at each other.

"Dude, there is a way to kill Amara," Sam stated, incredulous.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, slightly less enthusiastic, "but it sucks out loud."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sat back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration.

"Why can't we ever catch an easy break, Sammy?" He sounded exhausted. "I mean, this is virtually impossible!"

Sam chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "We don't do easy, remember? I mean, I know where to find most of the ingredients for the spell, but unicorn dust? Dude, unicorns aren't even real."

"Hmm," Dean grumbled.

"Hmm?" Sam looked at his brother. "That all you can say?"

"Look, Sam, unicorn dust is the least of my worries. Even if we'd find any, how are we going to get four blood related hunters in this bunker? I mean, angel time travel is out of business, so screw unicorn dust."

Sam pondered his brother's words quietly. "Any word on Cas or Lucifer yet?" Dean quickly denied with a shake of his head.

"Same goes for Amara." Dean got up and paced back and forth. "Still wish I knew why Cas did it, you know. I just don't get it."

***sn***

Castiel felt exhausted. Ever since he said Yes to his brother in the cage, Lucifer had shown him his superior strength. He was an archangel after all, whereas Castiel wasn't. The latter, however, remembered something he had come across in the library of the man of letters when he had helped the Winchesters digging through the lore on a case.

He repeated the Enochian enchantment over and over for weeks now, ever since he had allowed Lucifer in. If two angels shared a vessel, the enchantment would eventually, bit by bit, transfer the grace and its power to the angel casting the enchantment. The other angel wouldn't notice it until the last bit of grace had been transferred.

Castiel had been on it nonstop, and it had hurt to see what Lucifer did while he was in charge but at least the brothers knew he, Castiel, was still there and that his vessel was currently steered by Lucifer. Him being an archangel made the enchantment having to be repeated a lot more times than if it were a lower level angel and Castiel wondered how long it would take him to finish regaining power over his vessel.

But if he had learned only one thing from the brothers, it was never to give up. And he wouldn't give up. He would repeat those words over and over and over until finally, eventually, he would succeed and complete the transfer. Pushing the exhaustion aside, he continued.

***sn***

"Maybe another angel would be willing to help us out with the time travel," Sam wondered out loud. "After all it is in their own interest to defeat Amara."

"Are you feeling alright, Sam? They're dicks. They would rather see the world burn than help us." Dean's tone left no doubt about what he thought of angels in general.

Sam put down the note pad with the scribbled down spell and the ingredient list and sighed.

"Humor me, Dean. If Cas was there to help us out, how would we go about this? We need to be six blood related hunters for the spell, unicorn dust, and the Colt. Which is..."

"...awol," Dean finished Sam's sentence. "I don't think in all the world you'd find that many living blood related hunters, so the only way would be time jumping to collect them all." Dean looked up, eyes wide. "That sounds so wrong."

"And even if Cas was there, we don't know how many time jumps he can do before having to recharge his grace." Sam sighed and impatiently tapped his fingers on the list. "Even if we solve one problem, we still have like five other ones on our hands."

"Winchester luck... or rather, curse, Sammy," Dean put on a fake grin. Then he froze abruptly, blinking his eyes.

"Dean?" Sam frowned. Dean held up his hand, obviously thinking. Then he looked straight at his brother, wriggling his fingers.

"Sammy, laptop. Now."

"What's up?" Sam replied, pushing the laptop towards his brother. Dean didn't reply but hacked away on the keyboard, scrutinizing the screen. Just when Sam was about to speak again, Dean sat back with a silly grin from ear to ear. "Now what?" a puzzled Sam wondered out loud.

"Baby brother, I just found us some unicorn dust," Dean explained, looking smug. He turned the laptop around and pushed it towards Sam.

"Dude, that's a devil's claw," Sam stated, bewildered. "And they're not even pretty plants."

"Aw, Sammy, I thought you knew your herbs," Dean teased.

"Herbs, Dean. Not plants in general. I'm not a florist."

"Could have fooled me," Dean muttered good naturedly. "Scroll down, princess, read and learn."

Sam sighed, exasperated, but did as he was told. After a few moments his eyes grew wide. "The devil's claw, also known as devil's horn, ram's horn or unicorn plant..." He looked up, finding Dean's big grin staring back at him. "So..?"

"So we need a pod of this plant, dry it out and mash it into powder. Dust... unicorn dust."

"Wow," Sam exhaled, leaning back. "That actually sounds easy."

"Exception proves the rule, Sammy."

"It's Sam, jerk."

Dean grinned again. "Bitch."

"By the way," Sam continued, also grinning. "How did you know it was a plant?"

"I was thinking of curses. There's usually plants or herbs involved with the cure... and I once heard Bobby mentioning unicorn dust, or devil's dust to another hunter. I was only a kid but the unicorn sort of stuck. Never really though about it like ever again, though. Something must have jarred the memory awake."

They were silent for a moment, the mention of Bobby sending each boy down a short trip down memory lane. Dean pressed his jaws together, shaking it off, then made eye contact with his brother.

"Which still leaves us to figure out the angel flight problem," Sam sighed.

A dark shadow fell across Dean's face. Thinking of Bobby was bad, but they had come to grips with his death. Cas was a different matter, however. Technically, he was still there. But he was locked away, with Lucifer taking over the steering wheel. Temporarily unavailable. Out of order. That's what Cas was.

Footsteps from the hallway roused both Winchesters and in a flash the brothers were brandishing their weapons, training them on the doorway arc.

The footsteps got closer and then Lucifer, wearing Cas' meatsuit, appeared in the arc. Without hesitation the brothers released a round each towards the devil, knowing full well that would only piss him off. But their bullets never found their mark, because Lucifer disappeared instantly, only to reappear behind the brothers, relieving them of their weapons.

Sam and Dean both took a step back, glaring at the fallen archangel. Their stance indicated they expected to be flung across the room or attacked in any other way Lucifer might think up, but he just stood there, an impassive expression on his face, looking so much like Cas.

Lucifer dropped the guns on the table behind him and turned towards the hunters again just in time to catch the puzzled expression floating across their faces. They exchanged a quick glance, conveying their apprehension to each other.

An eerie light, like from a lightning bolt, illuminated the archangel briefly, displaying for a split second the magnificent looking wings of the celestial being. They looked so different to the ones Dean once had seen Lucifer display. What was going on? Those wings looked like Castiel's, but on steroids. Confusion crossed Dean's eyes.

"Cas?" He inquired tentatively.

"Hello Dean."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello Dean."

Dean fought hard to keep a smile off his face. Yes, he had seen the wings that were nothing like Lucifer's, but a niggling voice in the back of his head was telling him it could be a trick. Sam shared his brother's wariness.

"How?" Dean queried.

"How?" Castiel sounded confused.

"How is it you, Cas? How do I know Lucifer isn't just yanking my chain?"

The look that crossed Cas' face was something akin to hurt, but it disappeared as fast as it had come.

" 'cause last time he pretended to be you he tortured Sam," Dean growled.

"Yes," replied Castiel, looking down. "I remember. I wasn't strong enough then. But I am now." His blue eyes locked on Dean's and held the hunter's gaze. Then he looked at Sam. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"The question stands, Cas," Dean repeated, but his stance was slightly more relaxed. Lucifer might be one hell of an actor, but as long as he had made the brothers believe he was Cas, both Winchesters had felt that something was off with "Cas". Then they found out the hard way just what it was. Now, however, they didn't get the slightly off vibe from Cas, so maybe it was really their friend this time. "How did you give Luci the slip?"

"Enochian spell," Cas provided. "When I was still recovering while you were hunting the nachzehrer, I came across a book on angel lore. There were many spells, most of them I knew. Some, I didn't. They are hardly ever used."

"Okay," Dean nodded, walking over to the table, half sitting on it. "What spell is this? How to get the devil out of you?"

"Dean," Sam hissed disapprovingly. "Let him explain without having your sarcasm as a side dish." Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise and then relented, gesturing for Cas to continue.

"This one hasn't ever been used before as far as I know. It was intended for cases in which two angels share one vessel and come to a disagreement."

"A disagreement?" Sam asked. "I always thought most vessels can barely host one angel, let alone two."

"That is correct. Usually the human body can't cope with an angel's grace for long. Some can't cope at all. Double possession only happened once, but that was before I was created. If the stronger angel represses the other, the weaker can use this spell which, with time, will transfer the other's grace to his own."

"So what... you're like stealing Luci's grace?" Dean frowned.

"In a way," Cas replied, matching Dean's frown. "It takes time. It took me weeks. And I had unexpected help. Lucifer is a powerful archangel after all."

Sam had perked up at Cas' mention of help. "Who helped you? And why?"

"Amara," Cas stated.

"Amara?" Dean gasped.

"She didn't know. She still doesn't." A rare smile tugged on Castiel's lips.

"But... how?" Sam was searching for words.

"Amara tortured Lucifer. I had been repeating the spell ever since I said Yes to Lucifer. I suppose him being an archangel made it take this long. When Crowley tried to make me take over I wasn't quite there yet. Then Amara tortured Lucifer and I could feel I had completed the process. Lucifer is weak now. I have him locked away. But I had to act some part to escape Amara's clutches."

"So, does that mean you got archangel supercharge now," asked Dean.

"No, Dean. I got more than normal archangel power. My grace didn't consume Lucifer's. They combined."

"That why your wings look like they had a power-up?" Dean sounded excited.

"I believe so, Dean," the angel replied.

"Sammy, maybe we can book angel time travel after all."

***sn***

Amara stared at the spot where Lucifer had been only minutes ago. She had tortured him, turned his grace against himself, in hope God, her brother, would care and show himself. And then, in the blink of an eye, Lucifer had disappeared. She had taken a breather, considering her next attempt, because obviously the archangel's screams had not phazed her brother enough to intervene. Now, she had wanted to consume his grace, like she did with human souls.

"How did Lucifer get away?" she thundered. "He was weak! He was powerless! Who helped him?"

Trembling with hardly contained rage, Amara paced up and down. Outside, the skies were darkening in reaction to her mood. She was too furious to care. Then she stopped in her tracks.

"My brother might not care about this particular archangel, even though he used to be his favorite. He did lock him away, like he did with me. But there are always the Winchesters."

A tiny smile appeared on her face and the mark of Cain started glowing faintly.

"Dean is off limits regarding torture," Amara pondered out loud, her smirk growing wider. "But there's always Sam."

***sn***

"It actually is quite easy," Dean tried to explain to Cas about the spell they found. "The spell, six hunters, the Colt and a steady hand with good aim," he grinned. "That's all."

Cas looked at his friend with a frown. "If it were that easy, why haven't you killed her yet? You know other hunters who would help out."

"First off," Dean started, "we don't have the Colt."

"And it can't be just any hunters," Sam added.

"How's that?" Castiel regarded Sam as he elaborated.

"The hunters have to share a blood line. And not just any blood line," Sam glanced at his brother.

"Has to be Cain's blood line, Cas," Dean jumped in. "And there are only two hunters of this line alive."

Cas nodded and walked over to the table, picking up the scroll with the Etruscan spell. After studying it for a moment, his eyes found both brothers.

"There's no way I can pull four souls from the pit, even with my enhanced powers. Especially since they don't really have a body to return to. But I could bring them here from the past."

The brothers shared a glance. "Actually, that's what we thought, too," Sam provided, trying not to sound too relieved.

"Will you be able to do four time jumps with your souped up grace?" Dean asked bluntly.

"I don't know, Dean. But I believe it's worth a try. Who do you need me to fetch?"

"Whoa, Cas, it's not that easy. We have to plan this carefully," Sam put up a hand to move a stray lock back in place.

"Yeah, but if we're doing that now, I need some coffee," Dean declared, starting towards the kitchen. "You coming?"

***sn***

"I don't like the idea of having to zap both of you along each time, as you put it, Dean. The human body is not made for excessive time jumping."

Castiel clearly wasn't happy with what the brothers had suggested. Dean put down his coffee mug, now empty, with a thud. "Can't be helped, Cas. They all think there's no such thing as angels. They're gonna be freaked enough as is so at least they should see a face they know."

"A face," Cas accentuated. "Meaning one of you is enough. Two time jumps each." At his stern tone Dean's eyebrows climbed up and he shrugged towards his brother.

"Fine with me," he then conceded and Sam nodded in agreement. "I'll get our parents, you fetch Henry and Samuel."

"Why do I...," Sam started, then frowned, looking crestfallen. "Shit."

"Sammy?" Dean's voice held a tone of alarm in it. "What's wrong?"

"It won't work, Dean. Our mother and Samuel, they're our blood relatives, but not Cain's."

"I... son of a bitch!" Dean stood with such force that his chair tipped over backwards and noisily clattered to the ground.

"So we're back to square one," Sam eyed his brother with concern. He knew Dean took it on himself, and only him, that Amara was let loose. And it bugged him to hell and back that he couldn't kill her.

"No, we aren't," Cas piped up. Instantly two sets of Winchester eyes were pinning him, daring him to explain. "Samuel and Mary Campbell might not be direct descendents of Cain, but they are his blood line."

"How?" Dean rasped.

"The Campbells are direct descendents of Able," Cas explained.

"And since Cain and Able were brothers," Sam smiled, picking up on it immediately, "they share the same blood line." Cas nodded.

"Dude," Dean squeaked, the cleared his throat. "Our families are going back to brothers?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Millennia ago, Dean."

"The blood lines have been kept apart and it has been arranged for your parents to fall in love a long time ago," Cas brought up. "You were..."

"Meant to be born, yes. We know that part of the story, thank you very much." Dean looked at his brother. "Who do we get first?" Sam squinted his eyes, weighing up options.

"Dad."


	4. Chapter 4

"Dad?" Dean frowned slightly and then shrugged. "Okay, fine. When?"

"When he has the Colt in his possession," Sam said, determined. "Because he's the only one of the four that we know for sure had the Colt, and we know when."

Dean pulled up the chair he had knocked over and straddled it, resting his chin in his palms. He studied his fingers for a moment, then looked at his brother.

"Best time? I'd say, right after we snatched it from the vamps."

"But Dean, what will we think?" Sam pondered.

"We?" Dean scrunched up his face.

"Yeah, neither of us knew about angels and time travel then. It wouldn't do to get us freaked out and shoot you."

Dean's eyes grew wide at the thought. "Okay, I guess that means I'll have to get Dad alone."

"Even that is tricky," Sam pointed out. "He will notice you're older."

"Gee, thanks, Sammy. You trying to tell me I get wrinkly?" Dean put on a mock offended frown.

"Dean," Sam squirmed. "You know what I mean. What if he'll just try to use the Colt on you?"

"I won't let that happen," Cas calmly supplied.

"Sam has a point, Cas," Dean nodded grimly. "We're working on a tight time frame here and we know for a fact that our Dad was... is... whatever, he shoots first and asks questions later."

Castiel knotted his eyebrows, clearly digesting this information. Then his eyes found Dean's. "I could suspend time," he thought out loud. "That would give Dean the time to supply him with information while he is able to move but anything inanimate, like a knife or the Colt, would be frozen in time."

The brothers exchanged a glance and then nodded. "It's worth a shot," Sam agreed. Cas straightened and stepped towards Dean.

"Whoah, wait," Dean called, stretching out his hand to keep Cas at a distance. "What do I tell him? Hello, it's me, I'm from the future. We need you and the Colt to beat God's big sister so let my angel buddy here zap us to 2016 where you will meet your father, wife and father-in-law?"

Dean paused, looking from Sam to Cas and back. "Well, say something."

Sam shook his head. "To get him here he doesn't need to know the whole story." He ran his hands through his hair as if to kick his brain in gear. "Maybe it's enough to tell him we'll need his help to lock away something evil and to trust you."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, that'll go over well."

"Hey Dean, it's worth a try. You just have to improvise, and we both know you're good at that."

"I'll watch out for you," Cas supplied innocently, earning himself a glare from Dean. "Where do I have to transport us?"

"Colorado," Dean replied. "But... one more thing..."

"Yes?" Cas asked.

"If we snatch Dad now... and the others later, won't that mess up the time line, ya know, Back To The Future - style?"

Cas stared at Dean for a moment. "No, Dean. They will be returned to the very moment they were taken. You won't disappear from a fotograph."

Dean gaped at the angel, momentarily speachless. Then he blinked his eyes rapidly. "Okay." He shook his head in disbelief. "Okay, I'm not gonna ask. Let's do this."

***sn***

John Winchester watched the tail lights of the Impala disappear as his sons drove up ahead to the motel. The fight against the vampires didn't go exactly as he had envisioned, but all's well that ends well. The vamps were either gone or dead, his sons and he were in one piece, and the Colt...

He'd seen how the Colt worked with his own eyes. He was confident this gun could bring down the yellow eyed demon. As John glanced down at the Colt in his hand, his gaze held some kind of awe. The hunter smiled and opened his truck's door to follow his boys. He'd have to bring up disobeying his order, but they did well.

As John placed the Colt in the car, an eerie feeling fell over him. A cold shiver ran down his spine and instinctively he reached out for the gun again. He wanted to pick it up, but it wouldn't budge.

"No," he hissed, a mixture of confusion and apprehension coloring the word. A rustling behind him made John spin around... and stop dead in his tracks. A few steps before him stood two men. One he didn't know. The other one was his older son, Dean.

Only, it wasn't Dean. It couldn't be Dean. His son had driven off with his brother moments before. He couldn't be back here. John squinted his eyes as they roamed over the figure of Dean's doppelgänger. Something was different. He looked older by a few years.

"Hi Dad," Dean's doppelgänger said and John thought he heard an emotional vibe in his voice. "It's me. Don't freak out, please."

John knew that shapeshifters could download memories. But they always looked exactly like the people they imitated. Not like an older version. But there were also other creatures that assumed other shapes. Ghouls, or revenants. John's hair stood on edge and his hand darted to his back pocket to produce his switchblade, but he found that it couldn't be removed from the pocket.

Some kind of dark magic was at work here, John was sure of it. Doppelgänger-Dean took a step towards him but John Winchester was not the man to go down without a fight. He might not be able to use anything as a weapon but he could still swing a mean right hook. John rushed forward and his fist connected with the man's jaw.

Doppelgänger-Dean had seen the attack coming and managed to partially get out of the way, reducing the force of the blow. John had no time to feel any glee about his surprise attack because the man that looked like his son had converted his evasive move into an attack of his own, and John found himself pressed up against his truck with his right arm twisted onto his back.

"Dammit, Dad, it's me! At least give me a moment to explain before trying to beat the shit out of me."

"You can't be my son," John pressed out between clenched teeth, breathing harshly. "My son just left with his brother five minutes ago."

"I know, we were going back to the motel where you told us off for not following your orders," older Dean explained and John started. There this doppelgänger was talking about things only Dean would know but they hadn't even happened yet. John had only thought about it. "But at least we got the Colt, which is one part of reason we travelled back."

"We?" John was confused. "Who's we? That isn't Sam with you."

"Oh, so you believe I'm me now?"

"Getting there," John muttered. "What do you mean, we travelled back?"

"Dad, I know it's hard to believe, but just hear me out, ok?" Dean asked, releasing his father and taking a step back. When John had turned to face him, he continued. "Dad, this is Castiel. He's a friend," Dean paused briefly. "And an angel."

John opened his mouth to protest but Dean lifted his hands in a clear gesture to hear him out and ask questions later.

"He sent me back here because we need your help in the year 2016."

"Come again?" John felt like his eyes were bulging out like flying saucers. In a way it was comforting to know his son was still alive in ten years time. On the other hand, what evil did he encounter that he had to travel back to 2006 to get help from his father? And he needed the Colt. Where was it in 2016? A million other questions buzzed in John's head, but he knew that had to wait. His son's eyes held a pleading look and after taking another glance at this angel, Castiel, who was yet to say a word, John nodded.

"Alright, son," he rasped. "What do we do?"

A smile lit up Dean's face. "Castiel will take us to the bunker... and Sam. We'll explain everything there."

The surreal atmosphere around John dissolved and a quick test told him, his switchblade was mobile again.

"Grab the Colt, Dad," Dean said, nodding at the gun. John complied and a moment later the angel touched two fingers to both Winchesters heads and the next thing John knew was him being in an unknown environment, an older and long haired Sam staring at him.

"Welcome to 2016," Sam said, grinning.

***sn***

Amara was not happy. So far her efforts to locate the younger Winchester hadn't been successful, but that was not down to the sigils that marked the brothers' ribs. They made it somewhat difficult but not impossible.

Her bond with Dean gave her a strong feeling about his whereabouts most of the time but there were always hours or days even when she could not feel him at all. A mighty spell was at work, protecting the boys. But Amara had time. She had waited millennia to get released from her prison, she could wait a few more days.

And then she would find out whether her brother cared about the Winchesters.


	5. Chapter 5

John took in his surroundings, trying to get to grips with the sudden change of time and place. But as much as the place itself boggled his mind, the fact that he was with his sons who were older by ten years from one moment to the next almost freaked him out. And then there was Castiel... an angel!

Angels weren't real. Any hunter he knew would agree on that. And yet, John had seen with his own eyes that Castiel possessed powers that no human being could have. Normally he would have been wary, hell, he still was wary. But his sons seemed to know the man... angel... whatever he was. And they trusted him.

Returning from his thought, John became aware of both Sam and Dean staring at him in expectation. He was still holding the Colt in his hand and decided to keep it just in case.

"What is this place," John asked nobody in particular.

"It's a bunker, the headquarters of the Men Of Letters," Sam provided, his eyebrows quirking up somewhat expectantly, erasing the look of awe on his face upon seeing his father.

"Men Of Letters?" John frowned. "Never heard of them. What are they?" His boys exchanged a meaningful look. "Damn it, what's going on here, boys? What's happening? And Sam, don't they have any scissors in 2016?"

Sam swallowed and then chuckled nervously. "Take a seat, Dad. It's a long story."

"Care for a bruski?" Dean asked, walking to the fridge. He took out three bottles and raised his eyebrows in a question towards Castiel, who denied the unspoken question with a shake of his head. Dean shrugged and walked to the big world map table, putting down the bottles. "Sit your ass down, Dad," he said slightly more forceful than Sam had.

"Who do you think you're talking to, Dean?" John felt anger welling up at the lack of respect in his oldest's voice. "I thought I taught you better..."

"Dad," Dean said, holding up a hand and then flipping the cap off his beer. "Chill. I know it's hard to bend your mind around it first time you get angel mojoed to another time, but this is our time. We're not the same we were ten years ago. We've been through things, seen things you haven't ever heard of. So, with all due respect, we do it our way." Dean raised his eyes to meet his dad's. "Sir," he added.

John exchanged a long glance with his eldest, and the tension was palpable. John Winchester was a military man. He was used to bark out orders, to obey orders of higher ranking men, and to do so without question. He'd raised his sons like that. But he got that he was out of his depth right at this moment. So he nodded and grabbed a beer, sitting down next to Sam at the table with the world map.

"Alright son," he agreed. "Just answer some things for me. Why did you need to travel back ten years to get me and the Colt? Don't we have it in this year? Where am I, I mean, my older version? What are we hunting and since when do we know about angels." John had a zillion more questions but these ones were the most pressing.

Dean glanced at Sam and took a sip of beer. This was going to be interesting. "You wanna do this, Sam?"

"Nah, dude," Sam replied. "You fetched Dad, you fill him in."

"Why, thanks... bitch," Dean growled. Sam just smiled briefly and sipped on his own bottle.

"Alright, Dad. Just don't freak out. The Colt kinda got lost in time. We need it to kill Amara."

"Amara?"

"Big sister of God," Sam supplied.

"Hey, you didn't want to fill Dad in, so zip it," Dean barked in Sam's direction.

"Jerk," Sam muttered under his breath. Dean stared at Sam before turning back to his father.

"Apparently the big guy locked up his big sister and due to circumstances we... I accidently set her free. Now we gotta kill her before she swipes the whole planet. For that we need the Colt. It's our only chance." John was looking at Dean, transfixed as he tried to take in the news. "You, errr, your older self...," Dean stumbled over his words, having no idea how to tell his father he traded his life for his. John caught on and stretched his hand out to put it over Dean's.

"It's okay, don't say it. I don't want to know." Grateful, Dean looked up to his father. "So now you got the Colt, let's kill her."

"It's not that easy," Dean shook his head. "There's more to it than just the Colt."

"More?" John looked at Dean, then at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam decided to join in. "We need six hunters of Cain's blood line to bless the Colt with a spell written in Etruscan and then the bullet from the Colt has to destroy Amara's heart AND the mark at the same time."

"Six?" John exclaimed. Dean nodded. "Wow," John exhaled. "Where do you find six blood related hunters that are alive?"

"You don't," Sam stated. "That's why we'll have to get three more."

"Three more? Sam, there are no other hunters in our family." John looked at his youngest, worried. The boys exchanged a glance.

"Yes, there are," Dean stated quietly. "In fact, we should probably gather everyone as fast as possible so we have to tell the story only once."

"Sam this time," Castiel spoke for the first time since they arrived. "Where will we fetch Henry?"

***sn***

Henry Winchester felt his own blood well through his fingers as he looked at Abaddon's head rolling on the floor.

"We did it," he mumbled, watching his grandson, Dean, crouch down in front of him.

"No, you did it. For a bookworm, that wasn't bad, Henry," Dean replied.

Henry smiled as he leaned heavier into Sam's arms. He had been appalled when he found out his grandsons were Hunters, not Men Of Letters. By now, he found that they were mostly the same, just with a different approach. They cleaned the world of evil.

"I'm sorry I judged you two so harshly for being hunters. I should have known better," he whispered.

"About?" Sam prompted.

"You're also Winchesters. As long as we're alive, there's always hope." An eerie feeling overcame the dying man. Was this how it felt when your soul moved on? Time seemed to freeze, stand still. Sam and Dean were still like statues. A movement in his peripherals caught Henry's attention. An unknown man approached him, dark hair, wearing trenchcoat.

"Who are you?" Henry wished he had the strength to do something.

"Don't be afraid," the stranger said. "You'll be alright." The man's stretched out hand started to glow as he reached for Henry. Squeezing his eyes shut, the Man Of Letters expected pain. But all he felt was a warmth spreading through all of his body and then the pain was gone. Vanished. In fact, he felt great.

Henry opened his eyes, looking around. Dean was still kneeling in front of him, unmoving. He looked up the stranger, puzzled.

"Who are you? What is happening?"

"His name is Castiel, Henry. He's an angel of the Lord."

Henry looked up, squinting his eyes at the figure peeling out of this Castiel's shadow. He took in the long frame and his eyes grew wide and it was all he could do to prevent his jaw hitting the ground. Frantically, he turned around and stared at the freeze-framed man behind him. It was Sam, his grandson. But the man in front of him was also Sam.

"This is impossible," Henry whispered, taking in both frozen figures of his grandsons before redirecting his gaze at Sam's doppelgänger and the angel? The Men Of Letters knew all about angels, there was more than enough lore in their headquarters to prove their existance. Yet none of them had ever laid eyes upon one.

"Henry," Sam number two addressed him. "I know, the Men Of letters know about angels. Still, this whole situation must be totally blowing your mind. You just time travelled to this time from 1950-something, but," Sam sighed, not knowing how to explain this to his grandfather. "Time has moved on. And we kind of need your help in our time now, in 2016, else all this," he pointed around at his own suspended self and his brother, at Abaddon's severed head, "has been in vain." Sam's eyes were pleadingly resting on Henry.

"2016?" Henry swallowed. Absentmindedly his hand moved over his shirt, where the fatal wound had been, still coming away bloody. He looked down.

"Sorry about that," Castiel murmered and Henry moved his eyes up to study the angel. Then he addressed Sam, again.

"I take it I never made it back to my time, then."

Sam closed his eyes briefly and shook his head no. Henry took a deep breath, letting the air out in a hiss.

"Alright, it seems like there's nothing else to do but to help my family," he gave his consent. "Now, how do we get to 2016? I don't really have the ingredients to make a time jump."

"Cas here can zap us there," Sam explained.

"That makes sense," Henry nodded. "You need an angel feather to tap your soul and perform the time jump. Only logical, that angels can leap through time."

"But there's one thing you ought to know, Henry," Sam added warily.

"Yes?" Henry asked, curious.

"You're not the only relative we're bringing back. When we get to the bunker, you will meet our dad... your son."

***sn***

Amara was concentrating hard. She was trying to create a mind to mind connection with Dean, to find out where he was hiding out. Something was blocking her efforts. It couldn't be Dean himself, for he had no idea that she could get into his head and consciously shield himself.

She knew he was somewhere in Kansas, Lebanon being the place she most often could create a link, unbeknown to him. But she couldn't pinpoint his exact location. It had to be her brother's doing. There was no other option. And it made her anger towards him build up even more. Oh, she wouldn't want to be in Sam's shoes when she got her hands on him.

***sn***

"Who's Henry?" John asked Dean when he'd cleared his head of witnessing Sam and this Castiel disappear into thin air.

Dean swallowed hard, looking somewhat nervous. How do you explain to your father that the man he thought abandonned him was going to be here shortly, looking exactly like he did last time John saw him?

"Dean?" John's voice took on a stern tone. "What are you not telling me? And don't even try to think you can fool me. I can see it in your eyes when you're lying to me."

Dean chuckled briefly, memories of situations like these flooding his mind. "Yes, Sir," he rasped. Then he cleared his throat and stood tall, looking straight at John.

"Henry is your father. Our grandfather." Dean noticed the shock and disbelief in his father's eyes at this revelation.

"No," John snarled. "He left me when I was a kid. He never returned. There's no way he is alive. I would have found him. He...," John trailed off when he realized Dean was keeping a serious face effortlessly. "You have to be joking." Suddenly John's throat felt parched and he fumbled for the beer to gulp down a few swallows.

"No, Dad. I'm not joking. And he did not abandon you. It's a long story, Dad."

John gaped at Dean for a second, then nodded his head slowly, as if to convince himself he heard right. Finally he looked at his oldest again and spoke.

"Alright, Dean. Fill me in."


	6. Chapter 6

John Winchester sat at the table, staring at his first born son as if he'd grown a second head. The still half full bottle of beer his fingers curled around was long forgotten.

"So you see, Dad, you might as well blame Sam and myself for your dad not returning home that night. Or ever." Dean concluded the tale of Henry Winchester, Man of Letters, as fast as he could, explaining what he knew about the organisation his grandfather had been part of along the way. For a few moments neither Winchester said anything, John deep in thought and Dean not wanting to pry. Then John met Dean's eyes.

"He was a Man of Letters, eh?" Dean confirmed John's question with a nod. "Meaning I would have ended up doing what I am doing no matter what."

"Probably," Dean agreed. "But in a different manner, I suppose."

Just then the screech of the door on the upper level alerted the two that they weren't alone anymore. Dean glanced up, tense, but relaxed when he saw Cas appear on top of the stairs, closely followed by Sam. John gripped the bottle even tighter when he saw the third person appearing through the door.

His mouth dropped open and the air escaped him in an inaudible 'no' as the men walked down the stairs to their level. As if on auto pilot John rose from his seat and Dean followed suit. Sam and Cas came to stand next to the men while Henry Winchester remained on the last step, gaze fixed on John.

Henry took in the dark haired, bearded man from head to toe, his mouth dropping open and his eyes looking ready to bulge out of his head. Like in slow motion he took the last steps down and came to a halt in front of his son.

"Dad?" John whispered, eyes filling with unshed tears, a fact he would never admit to, as Dean and Sam knew. Henry nodded slowly, his lips trying to form words he didn't have.

"You look just like my father," Henry finally rasped when he'd found his voice. "I... I'm sorry, John. This... it's unreal."

Sam exchanged a glance with his brother, who nodded and tugged Cas' arm to make him follow.

"We'll give you a few moments to catch up, Dad, Henry," Sam spoke, already walking in the direction Dean and Cas left. "Holler if you need anything."

***spn***

Sam sat next to his brother on the bed while Cas stood just inside the room, his face void of any expression. He was studying the brothers like he used to do, which regularly freaked at least Dean out, even if he didn't always voice it.

"Do you think they'll still be alive when we get back inside?" Dean tried to joke but it fell on deaf ears. He fidgeted on the bed, earning himself an angry look from Sam. Dean shrugged in apology. "Just saying, when I told Dad what we know about Henry's story he didn't exactly look like he believed any of it."

"They'll work it out," Sam replied. "I mean, I can understand Dad's anger for thinking he'd been abandoned, but we know it wasn't like that. Even Dad will come to understand that."

"Wow, Sam. I never thought you'd give that type of credit to Dad," Dean joked. Sam glared, but then shrugged.

"Just wondering how it's going."

"They're talking," Cas piped up.

"That's good," Sam nodded and then frowned.

"What?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Just wondering how things will go when Dad sees Mom again... especially...," he trailed off. "Which year are we going to fetch Mom? Just before... the fire?"

"No," Dean replied more forcefully than he intended. "No, she doesn't know us, me, as a grown man. 1978-Mom does. She knows us both. I'd say we fetch her after I told her we're her sons."

"That way she'd know about us and angels," Sam nodded. "Good thinking."

Dean grinned and the next moment froze as if he'd seen a ghost. A frown formed on Sam's face.

"Dean?"

***spn***

As Sam was talking to him, Dean's eyes caught another figure in the room. A figure that shouldn't be there, that shouldn't be able to get in the bunker to start with.

"Dean," she said. "I found you. Well, not you in person, but since I'm in Lebanon our connection is much stronger. I need to find you. You and your brother. I need to talk to you face to face. About my brother."

"Amara," Dean whispered, staring transfixed at the apparition before him. His muscles tensed, ready for fight or flight, but he couldn't move.

"Show yourself, meet me," she repeated. "And bring Sam."

With that her figure dissipated.

***spn***

"DEAN?" Sam nudged his brother who was staring wide eyed into nothing. He got no reaction.

"Cas?" One hand on his brother's shoulder Sam turned to the angel.

"She's talking to him," Cas stated and approached the brothers.

"She?"

"Amara," Dean whispered tonelessly, drawing Sam's attention back to him.

"Amara? Dean, what the hell..." Sam shook Dean's shoulder. "Snap out of it!"

Dean kept staring ahead wide eyed for another few moments before blinking and gasping as his world returned into focus.

"Sam?" Dean turned to the younger hunter. "Don't leave the bunker. She's after you. I can feel it."

***spn***

Henry shook his head. "It's still so surreal," he said, looking at the man who was his son, as tall as himself but somehow a few years older. "Three days ago I left you in your bed, going to that meeting and now I not only met my grandsons who are grown men and now my own son. It's been literally three days."

John nodded. "I know the feeling. I just don't know what's more mindblowing, seeing my sons ten years older than just an hour ago or seeing my father looking exactly like the day he disappeared."

"I still can't believe the Men Of Letters don't exist anymore," Henry said, looking around. "But it looks like being a Hunter isn't that bad. At least my grandsons turned out alright." He smirked and John snorted.

"What I think is unreal is the fact that I'd have ended up in the hunting business one way or another." John mused. "Wonder what Mary would have said if she'd learned I was a legacy."

"She knows all about hunters," a voice approaching the two men said. John and Henry looked up to see Dean with Sam and Castiel coming closer.

"She what?" John asked, frowning. What Dean had just said... he must have heard wrong.

"Mary grew up into the hunting life, much like Sam and myself. Her parents were hunters, she wanted out...," Dean tried to explain in a nutshell but John interrupted him.

"Her parents were what?"

"Hunters, Dad. The angels went through a lot of trouble apparently to arrange for you and Mom to meet and for us to be prepared for this life."

"You telling me they arranged for Mary to be killed by that yellow eyed demon?" John's fury was now directed at Castiel, who met his glowering stare evenly.

"No, we didn't," he explained in his low, emotionless voice. "We just didn't interfere. It was serving our purpose."

"Why you..." John growled, ready to launch himself at the angel, but both Sam and Dean placed themselves between the two.

"Cool it, Dad. Believe me, it's not their fault. At least not his," Sam explained.

"If you need to blame someone, blame God," Dean added.

"God?" John queried, still trying to kill Castiel with his eyes.

"Yes. Apparently he's been keeping his pawns, namely Sam and myself, on the chess board, but doesn't care enough to show his sorry self," Dean now growled, earning himself a warning look from Sam. He shrugged.

"I think it's better to talk you all through this once the last two members are here, too," Sam suggested. Then he looked at his father and grandfather. "Are you two good?"

The men exchanged a glance, and then John nodded. "Yeah," he said.

"We're good," Henry confirmed.

"Great," Sam smiled. "Then maybe Cas and Dean can get Mom."

"Wait," John hastily interjected. "Boys, just how many heart attacks are you going to give me today?"

Sam pulled his eyebrows up in a patented puppy eyes look. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother and then faced his father.

"Too fast?"

"Dean, within a few hour I went from hunting vampires to seeing my son's older self to angel travel through time and meeting my father who disappeared when I was a kid and now looks about ten years younger than me. Damn right too fast. At least tell me which year you're picking up my... Mary," John's exasperation dissolved at the thought of meeting the love of his life again.

"We're going to get her in 1978. From a point where you don't know it yet, but she's... pregnant. With me," Dean informed his father and felt a weird feeling running down his spine. "We met her - and you, then - she know's about angels and time travel, and she knows we're her sons. She was shocked to find out we were hunters... and she thought she had raised us in the life she tried to escape. I...," Dean took a deep breath. "I told her it wasn't her, but she wouldn't buy it. So I had to tell her."

"How she died?" John asked, voice quivering at the memory.

"No. Not how. Just that she died."

At Dean's words John nodded. "Okay." Then he looked up. "How come I don't remember having met you then?"

"Angel mojo," Sam explained. "They wiped your memory."

"Him?" John nodded at Castiel. Sam and Dean exchanged slightly panicked looks.

"No, not him. Another angel," Dean said. "Dad, she might not recognize you right away. But I will let her know as brief as I can what's going on, so she won't be all freaked out."

At John's confirming nod Dean walked over to Cas, signaling him he was ready to be zapped. Cas reached out two fingers, but Dean held up his hand, stalling the angel.

"Sam, do me a favor and stay put, okay?"

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, Dean," he hissed in a manner that was telling Dean he was not a little kid. Dean smirked and then looked at Cas, who completed the move and the next second, the angel and the human had left the bunker.

***spn***

Amara was pacing in her quarters. It had been easy to find an abandoned shelter in Lebanon. She had to be patient. The Winchesters couldn't stay hidden forever. Sooner or later they were bound to surface.

When she had created the connection with Dean earlier, she had felt he was close. The connection was strong, so strong that Dean's feeble attempts to keep her out were fruitless. She had felt his agitation, his every emotion. But she had not been able to read his mind. Amara hummed as she strode through the hall like room.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean stumbled slightly to regain his balance. He would never get used to being zapped through time and space by Castiel. They had landed in a dark corner of the Campbell plot and Dean took a deep breath before approaching the house of his grandparents. He could hear talking from inside, recognizing his own voice. That was weird.

With a glance to Castiel, Dean quietly opened the front door, praying that the door wouldn't squeak, which earned him a puzzled frown from Castiel. Dean shrugged and carefully moved inside, heading straight to the door towards the room he knew himself and his mother were in, keen to avoid drawing Sam or John's attention. Feeling Cas' presence behind him, he halted and listened.

"Okay. You said you'd explain everything when we had a minute. We have a minute. Why does an angel want me dead?" Dean swallowed, hearing his mother pose the same question again. Somehow even now he didn't know what would be the perfect answer.

" 'Cause they're dicks." Dean cringed at his own lame reply, hearing his mother's disbelieving laughter.

"Not good enough. I didn't even know they existed, and now I'm a target?"

"It's complicated."

"Fine." Dean heard Mary get up. He had to get ready for Cas' interference and squared his shoulders. What should he tell her?

"All ears."

"You're just gonna have to trust me, okay?" Dean cringed internally.

"I've been trusting you all day." It was obvious that Mary was at the end of her patience.

"It's kind of hard to believe."

"All right, then. I'm walking out the door." Mary turned to walk away and Dean involuntarily took a step back.

"I'm your son." Mary's steps ceased.

"What?"

"I'm your son. Sorry. I don't know how else to say it. We're from the year two thousand and ten. An angel zapped us back here. Not the one that attacked you, friendlier."

"You can't expect me to believe that."

"Our names are Dean and Sam Winchester. We're named after your parents. When I would get sick, you would make me tomato-rice soup, because that's what your mom made you. And instead of a lullaby, you would sing "Hey Jude", 'cause that's your favorite Beatles song."

A tear threatened to roll down Dean's cheek as he heard himself say this. "I...I don't believe it. No."

"I'm sorry, but it's true."

"I raised my kids to be hunters?"

Dean felt Cas' hand on his shoulder. "We don't have much time, Dean. I can pause time, but it doesn't affect angels. If you take too long, Anna and Uriel will be here, and Michael might be able to follow us."

Dean nodded and, taking a deep breath he walked through the door, finding his mother staring in shock at his frozen younger self. She turned upon hearing his steps and gasped. Instinctively her hand went to the knife in her pocket and Dean raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

"It's okay, mom," Dean started, just to mentally kick himself. "Please, I know it's a lot to take in and it sounds a whole bunch of crazy, but I don't have time to explain right here and now. So I need you to trust me."

Castiel walked up behind Dean and Mary stepped back again, looking from two thousand and ten Dean to two thousand and sixteen Dean and Cas.

"Who's he? And you're asking a whole lot of my trust today."

"He's the friendlier angel I, "Dean nodded towards his younger self, "just told you about. And I know I didn't do much to earn your trust but... it's about John. In a way. And we don't have much time before the douche-bag angels arrive and this all goes to hell. So please, trust me!"

"I...," Mary paused, quickly glancing at suspended in time Dean, then her eyes locked with her animated son. "I trust you. I don't know why, but, yes."

A smile spread on Dean's stubbled face and Castiel quickly stepped close and touched both human's foreheads with his outstretched fingers.

*****spn*****

Mary looked around when her head had cleared enough from the experience of traveling through space. She frowned as she didn't recognize her surroundings at all.

"Where are we?" She asked, looking at Dean.

"Do you mean which year or which State?" Dean asked, unconsciously licking his lips. Mary glared at him briefly. "Alright, I get it, both," Dean hastened to add. "Promise not to freak out?"

"Tell me already, or I'll ask your lost puppy angel here to take me right back," Mary tensely dared him. Her patience was wearing thin and to be honest, she was ready to freak out. Angels? Time travel? Her son all grown up when nobody even knew yet that she was expecting? It was all way out of her comfort zone.

"Lebanon, Kansas, 2016," Dean replied in short clipped words.

"2016?" Mary gulped. She walked a few steps, scanning the landscape, the deserted road, the dreary metal entrance door to what she could only think of as a hidden and forgotten place. She had tried to leave the hunting life behind her but it seemed to find her every time. She turned again, facing her grown son. "Alright now, you told me you'd explain. And you have a lot to explain. Why are we here? Why do you need me here?"

"We need you here to help us defeat the Darkness, to save the world," Dean simply replied.

"We? As in you and that angel?"

"As in me, Sam, John, your father in law Henry, and... that angel. Castiel. And... we still need your father, too."

"If you need John, why didn't you take him with? He was right there." 

"We needed John, the hunter," Dean started, but Mary interrupted him.

"John is no hunter," she pressed.

"Not the John you know. You asked me earlier, if you raised your children to be hunters. You didn't."

"I didn't?" Mary looked confused. "If I didn't, then who...?"

"John did. He... there was an... incident when I was four and Sam was just six months old. You... didn't make it," Dean hated himself for the tear that rolled down his cheek for real this time. "It was..., it was a demon, okay? And dad... John, got pulled into the supernatural hunting world. He was obsessed with getting revenge. So, Sam and I grew up to be hunters." Dean had looked down on his shoes the whole time while speaking. Now he raised his gaze to see his mother's face streaking with tears. "No, mom. It's okay, don't... cry. We're alright."

"How can you be alright?"

"It doesn't matter how. But now, now we'll only be alright with your help. When we go into the bunker, Sam will be there. He's not alone. Dad... John is there, too. But it's 2006 John. He's not the John you remember, but... he's a good man. And Henry is there, John's father."

"I thought John's father abandonned him when he was a young boy," Mary whispered.

"Not quite. Henry Winchester was... is a man of letters. The men of letters are sort of sophisticated hunters. Dad was a legacy, destined to take over his part in that secret society. Sam and I, we are legacies, too. But we grew up as hunters. Henry was on a mission to keep the knowledge of the men of letters safe from a demon, a knight of hell, Abaddon. He used a time traveling spell to shake Abaddon off, but she found him. That's why he never returned."

"But you have him here?" Mary wasn't sure she was grasping all this. It would take time.

"We knew when to get him," Dean simply explained. "Now, if you're ready, let's get inside."

*****spn*****

Amara was thrilled. For the first time since settling in Lebanon, she could feel Dean. Wherever he'd been hiding so far, he'd left his secluded spot. Focusing, Amara tried to build up a visual connection, but found that something was interfering. She couldn't establish a link like she usually did.

Furious, the dark haired woman concentrated her efforts, but all of a sudden, the tender signs of a connection were disrupted. Dean was gone. Hidden once again. She would be able to narrow down his whereabouts, but she had missed her chance to get him. With an angry growl Amara resigned to focus on Sam again.

*****spn*****

Sam had been listening to John and Henry talking, his mind trying to play down his nervousness about his mother's appearance. Finally, the heavy metal door opened and Dean marched down the staircase, followed by two sets of steps. Sam's head shot up, his mouth slightly agape when he realized, Dean had done it. He'd really done it. There she was, his mother, just like he remembered her from... Sam chuckled... from the day he'd met her, which coincidentally was the day Dean had just fetched her from.

When Mary reached the bottom of the staircase, her eyes immediately scanned over the three men waiting. The one was a well dressed man, a bit older than her, face smooth, exuding a very distinct air. That must be Henry, the man of letters. Mary started at Sam's appearance, recognizing him but seeing the distinct differences to the younger Sam she met earlier that day. He had changed more than Dean, it looked like. His hair was different, his eyes seemed older. But it was definitely Sam.  
Then her eyes fell on the third man, and she gasped, stopping short. Mary could see she was looking at John Winchester, her John, the father of the child she was carrying and which was somehow alive and grown up right behind her. John had aged, but in a good way. He was still handsome, and a smile lit up Mary's face. John had filled out, time had edged the one or other line onto his features, but he was unmistakeably John. And he was unmistakeably a hunter.

"Mary," John whispered, not trusting his voice. He had to choke back some tears that threatened to betray his macho image. The next thing he knew was he held his long lost wife in his arms, holding her tight like he never wanted to let go again.

"I'm so sorry, John," Mary whispered with tears in her voice. "I never wanted this for you."

"I know, baby, but it wasn't your fault. I would have ended up in this world one way or another. That much I know by now." John was rubbing Mary's back, his fingers trying to memorize every inch of her. "I missed you so much!" For a few long moments everything was quiet in the bunker. One could have heard a pin drop. Then Dean cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.

"As much as I'd love for you to catch up, there's a lot to discuss and explain still, and we're running out of time. And we still need one more family member to successfully perform this spell." He intently looked at Sam.

"You ready?"


	8. Chapter 8

Sam was eyeing Dean as they feverishly tried thinking up when best to pick up Samuel.

"Gotta be some time before he realized you had no soul, Sammy," Dean mused. "Meaning, before you threw me under the bus and let Boris turn me."

"Dean!" Sam hissed, looking around anxiously, hoping against hope nobody had heard it.

"Turn you?" John raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Into what?" Mary added.

"Great, Dean. Couldn't you just let the past be in the past?" Sam muttered.

"Funny you should say that," Dean looked around at their parents and grandfather. "Anyway, it's not like I stayed a vampire, thanks to..."

"A vampire?" both Winchester parents exclaimed, John glaring at Sam and Mary eyeing Dean suspiciously, hand on her knife.

"Relax, you two. Not like I stayed a monster," Dean tried to smooth over the ruffled feathers.

"How?" John's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"There's a cure," Henry - still sitting at the table - piped up. "As long as the turned human hasn't fed, there's a cure."

"Why doesn't it surprise me that the Men of Letters knew about the cure?" Dean mumbled. "I know you all have probably like a zillion questions, but let's address them when Samuel is here, too."

"So... how about during the year I... um, while you were with Lisa?" Sam suggested, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Dean stared at Sam a moment, then blinked his eyes.

"Okay." He turned to Cas. "You ready to take him?"

***

"Are you sure?" Sam asked his grandfather, Samuel Campbell.

"Positive," Samuel replied with a frown. He'd found his grandson to be a more than capable hunter. But there was something about him that was off. He was cold, indifferent. At least he tried to care, but Samuel wasn't fooled.

"So those djinn are hunting in the area where Dean and Lisa stay?" Samuel nodded, not taking his eyes off Sam, who ploughed on. "And Dean caught onto them?"

"He noticed something is happening, he's a hunter, Sam. And your brother!"

"Yeah. I know."

Samuel knew about Dean, but he didn't know him. And he didn't know what kind of relationship they used to have. All he'd heard in the past year didn't match up with Sam's unwillingness to even let his brother know he's alive.

Samuel had looked down, waiting for Sam to continue. When it stayed quiet, he looked up again and immediately his hand shot to his belt to grab the silver knife in it. Sam was like frozen in time, like a statue, and next to him was another Sam. Older, different clothes, but undeniably Sam.

"Get away from him!" Samuel snarled at the newcomer, brandishing his knife while wondering what that creature had done to Sam.

Older Sam eyed the knife and smirked briefly. "I'm not a shapeshifter, Samuel."

"Then what are you?" Samuel wasn't willing to trust anybody running around with a face he knew didn't belong to them.

"I'm Sam," older Sam started, interrupted by an indignant huff of the older hunter. "Well, I am. I'm from the year 2016. An angel brought me back here, because we need your help defeating the most ancient evil of all."

Samuel knew of angels. He remembered Sam telling him about their ability to perform time jumps and that apparently, before he died by the hands of that yellow eyed demon, he'd met a time travelling Dean.

"Prove it. Prove that you're no shapeshifter. And tell me something only Sam would know."

Sighing, Sam produced his own silver knife and under the watchful eyes of Samuel, he cut himself across the arm. He even let Samuel sprinkle some holy water on him.

"You and I returned to Earth the same time. Something pulled me from Lucifer's cage and you down from up above. By now I know you were brought back by Crowley, wannabe King of Hell. I was pulled out of the cage by the angel Castiel."

At those words, Cas, who had stayed in the shadows, stepped forward. Samuel's eyes narrowed and he tensed. Castiel walked over to older Sam, held his hand over the small wound in his arm. There was a brief glow and then Samuel saw the wound had disappeared.

"I take it you're that angel, eh?" Samuel's voice still conveyed his wariness.

"He is," older Sam replied instead of the angel.

"So, run it by me again. What do you need me for?"

In few words as possible, Sam mapped out the dilemma, explaining how they have already recruited the other family members. Samuel's eyes got big when he heard about his daughter being there, and he was shaking his head at the mention of John Winchester.

"I still can't picture that boy as a hunter. A fighter he may be, having been with the marines and all, but a hunter?" Samuel sighed. "And his father was a Man of Letters?"

Sam nodded.

"I've heard of that organisation. But they were said to have disappeared by the time I was old enough to hunt. I think my own grandfather had been in that organisation briefly. He decided to forego it due to their disregard to hunters, and he preferred the hunting ways."

"Wow," Sam whistled. "It really is a family business. Way bigger scale than I had thought."

"Alright, my boy. I'm going to help. Now how does this time travelling business work?"

Castiel stepped up to the two men, stretched out his arms, touched two fingers to each man's forehead and they disappeared.

***

Amara was getting bored. And frustrated. She still couldn't get a pinpoint to the Winchesters location and it seemed that Dean had found a way to shut her out. Erected a mind shield or something.

Something was happening, though, because she noticed a definite rift in the time and space continuum, spanning a few decades and seemingly including several hot spots during that time. The Winchesters were up to something, and Amara had the distinct feeling she wasn't going to like it.

A flicker in her mind focused her attention and all of a sudden she had a clear reading on Sam Winchester. It was gone in the blink of an eye, but enough to give her a vague idea where he had been. Whatever conceiling spell the brothers were using, it seemed to be cracking. A predatory grin spread across her face.

"I'm going to find you, Sam Winchester. And I'm going to tear you limb from limb if that's what it takes to get your brother to cooperate."

***

Samuel Campbell found himself standing on the solid staircase of a seemingly gigantic building. Looking around, his eyes finally settled on his grandson, who was starting down the stairs. Taking a deep breath he followed, with Castiel making the rear. At the bottom of the stairs a room opened up and Samuel's eyes landed immediately on his daughter.

"Dad," Mary whispered, choking back a sob. Last time she had seen her father he had been possessed by the yellow eyed son of a bitch who had stabbed Samuel Campbell, snapped John's neck and brought him back to her in exchange for her soul, ten years on.

Samuel hugged her tight, letting his gaze wander across the other people in the room. Dean, like Sam, looked older than his self he'd observed in the djinn infested neighborhood he'd just been snatched from. John looked a lot older than he remembered, but was still unmistakeably John. Only now, locking eyes with his son-in-law, he saw the hunter in him.

His gaze moved over to a neatly dressed man, presumably early forties, clean shaven, alert eyes taking in everything. Releasing his daughter, Samuel nodded at the man.

"Henry Winchester, I presume?"

***

Dean sighed. He and Sam had just finished taking turns filling their extended family in on the Darkness dilemma. In the subsequent silence, Dean got up and snatched a beer from the fridge. Turning back, he hesitated, shrugged and grabbed the whole sixpack, placing it on the table.

"Help yourselves."

John immediately grabbed one and took a big sip. "I'd say we figure out who gets what done and formulate a plan to gank that Darkness."

Henry looked at his son, a frown forming on his forehead, but before he could formulate a reply, all hell broke loose. The bunker shook like an earthquake had hit and things started flying to all sides as if a twister had breeched the perimeter.

Mary managed to slip under the massive table, which was anchored into the ground. Henry felt himself hitting the counter behind him, his breath leaving him with a whoosh. Castiel, Samuel and Sam let themselves drop to the floor, protecting their heads with their arm from the flying debris. John felt Dean's hand grab his sleeve before being airborne. Both Winchesters sailed across the room, barreling into the wall with a thud that was bone crunching.

As sudden as the storm started it died down again. Sam sat up, looking around. John picked himself off the floor with a groan, while Mary cautiously crawled out from under the table. Samuel was rubbing his back and Henry was holding his ribs, still trying to catch his breath. Sam's gaze was scrutinizing the room. Castiel was nowhere to be seen, but he was an angel. He didn't exactly care to say good-bye when he left. Then Sam's eyes landed on his brother who was laying still on the floor.

"Dean?" Sam got to his feet, making his way through the mess. He got no reply, no moan, no movement. John, attention brought towards his eldest, knelt down, running his hand over Dean's head. Lifting it up, Sam saw it was bloody.

"DEAN!"


	9. Chapter 9

_"You can't hide forever, Dean," Amara's purred words materialized in Dean's mind. He tried to open his eyes but failed miserably. They were like glued shut. Maybe his mouth would work better._

_"I'll never join your cause, Amara. And I'll never let you lay your evil hands on my brother," he rasped his reply as forceful as possible. Despite his eyes staying shut, Amara's image haunted Dean's mind._

_"Oh, but I can almost pinpoint your whereabouts, handsome," she replied sweetly. "That quake you just felt, it's because your spell's walls are crumbling. Soon I will be able to appear in front of you instead of in your head."_

_"Spell?" Dean was confused. Did she know about their plan? Did she know where they are? Pictures raced through Dean's foggy brain, without him being able to stop them. Faces, locations, everything that meant something to him._

_"You might as well quit your struggles, Dean. You can't stop me reading your mind. Not when you're really unconscious," the sickly sweet voice continued. Panic welled up inside the hunter. He felt like he was giving away all his secrets without being able to do anything to prevent it. Finally, a picture of the entrance to the bunker flashed in Dean's mind and Amara laughed._

_"Thank you, Dean. Now I know where to find you." Dean saw her face spreading into a wide grin. "Sam will be mine until you say yes."_

_"NOOO," Dean shouted._

_"Soon," Amara taunted and disappeared._

"Dean, come on, wake up," Sam begged his brother, one hand on his chest, shaking Dean gently. Dean's eyes were closed, but moving rapidly underneath the lids. John swallowed and tapped Sam's shoulder. 

"Let me," he simply said. Sam knew what this would be like and he hated it, but they really needed Dean to snap out of it. So, he moved aside. John placed one hand on Dean's shoulder and gave it a harsh shake.

"Wake up, Dean," he bellowed. "That's an order!"

Dean moaned weakly, his head rolling from side to side, mumbling unintelligible. John sighed and repeated his move.

"On your feet, soldier!" Tone sharp, his grip on Dean's shoulder even tighter, John saw success. Dean's eyes flew open, albeit unfocused. 

"Nooo," Dean moaned, then shouted. "NO!"

Jerking upright, pulse racing, Dean was breathing heavily as he returned to awareness. Slowly, he took in the people around him, Sam, his dad, his mother and grandfathers.

"She's gonna take Sam. We need to get the spell going now. She knows where we are." Dean looked around once more. "Where's Cas?"

*****spn*****

Amara smiled broadly. Finally she knew where the Winchesters were hiding. Time to set her plans in motion. Dean Winchester on her side would be integral to vanquish her brother and with him all of his despicable, imperfect little pets. Maybe she would keep Dean, though. Not only did they share a bond, as much as the older Winchester hated it, but he was also one pet of her brother's that really held some appeal. He intrigued her, and wasn't hard to look at.

Closing her eyes to enjoy the impeding victory anew, she jerked them open again when an icy wind made her body spasm. Sucking in the frigid air, she turned around only to squint her eyes at a pale blue, bright gleam. The cold disappeared instantly, like someone had shut a door. Eyes quickly adapting to the gleam, Amara made out a figure in its midst. A figure with folded up wings, yet humanly shaped, like herself. Her eyes narrowed and an annoyed smile spread across her features.

"Castiel," she pressed through her lips. What did this pesky member of her brother's first creations want? She knew this angel had taken a liking to humans, especially to Dean, and she didn't like it at all. "To what do i owe this... pleasure?"

"Stay away from Dean. And Sam," Castiel began unceremoniously.

"Or what? You're just a simple angel, Castiel. Your powers can't compete with mine. It will be my pleasure to remove you from the game's board entirely," Amara explained, raising her hands, ready to blast the angel into oblivion. Silvery glowing energy emerged from her hands, encompassing Castiel, but he didn't explode into a zillion tiny pieces. The longer he resisted her energy blast the greater her confusion became. "This is impossible. You're just a stupid angel."

"You see, that's where you are mistaken," Castiel replied, keeping a straight face. Again, a bright gleam surrounded the angel, and this time Castiel flashed his souped up wings and spread them. Understanding dawned on Amara's face, and for a moment it looked like she was struggling to comprehend the revelation. Then her predominant grin returned and she raised her hands once more. Castiel, not to be outdone, copied her movements and the warehouse they were in erupted in a most spectacular light show.

*****spn*****

Sam looked around, but everyone just shrugged. "He disappeared, Dean. You know Cas, he isn't the biggest fan of good-byes."

Dean nodded and got to his feet. Walking back to the table he pulled a chair back on its feet and dropped in it, holding his head.

"You okay?" Sam asked concerned. Dean nodded.

"Nothing I've never had." Then he lifted his head and looked around. "We need to get the spell done, like yesterday. Amara is strong. She knows where we are. We can't afford not to be prepared." 

"What all do we need for the spell?" Mary asked. Sam recited the list he knew by heart.

"Right," Samuel chimed in. "Is everything already here or do we still need to get hold of some stuff?"

"Well, I didn't have the chance yet to make unicorn dust," Sam sighed, knowing that drying the plant would take some time. Time they didn't really have. Sam looked over at Dean and didn't miss his sigh. 

Getting up, Dean walked over to his father, pointing at the Colt in his belt. John pulled it out and weighed it in his hands for a moment, before passing it on to his son.

"Does the spell include the Colt or only the bullets?" he asked.

"The bullets, dad," Sam supplied, placing everything they needed that they already gathered on the table, while Dean picked the last two bullets out of the Colt. "But, we still need..."

"... unicorn dust. No problem," Henry finished.

"No problem?" Dean raised an eyebrow, with Sam following suit. John and Mary shared a look and shrugged while Samuel scratched his head.

"The Men of Letters bunker always has a supply of any kind of spell ingredient you could ever need. Follow me." Henry started in direction of the library, the other five hunters in his wake. He walked to a specific part of the book wall and silently counted out books in a manner that seemed random to anyone but himself. Then he stepped forward and pulled out a black book half way. 

The silence in the library was broken by the muffled noise of mechanics slotting into place and after a few seconds, the board the black book was resting on, moved forward. Henry grabbed the right side of it and spun it towards himself, revealing a circular tray with little flasks containing substances of different colors and textures. Studying the flasks, a determined move of his hand picked up one containing a seemingly silvery, shimmering powder. As Henry tilted the flask the powder shimmered back different colors, constantly changing. Triumphantly he turned around and presented it.

"Et voilà, unicorn dust."

Dean cleared his throat. "Pardon my french, but how the fuck did you know this? You been to the bunker before?"

Henry smiled and shook his head. "No, I haven't. But I had to learn the bunker's secrets after having been selected to participate in the project that was so rudely interrupted by Abaddon."

Sam and Dean both scoffed while the others just looked confused. Then Sam carefully took the flask from Henry's hands and carried it back to the table, his family in tow.

Following the instructions meticulously, Sam began mixing the ingredients to the spell.

*****spn*****

Amara was still shaking off the surprise of Castiel's powers, having just been struck in the chest by a white hot ball of energy flung at her by the angel. Stumbling backwards she had little time to recover before a brilliant red bolt of lightning split the ground next to her.

Starting an attack of her own, Amara sent a poison green flash at Castiel, sending him flying backwards into the far wall. Castiel knew he wouldn't be able to defeat Amara, but he would be damned if he didn't try holding her off as long as possible. 

When the bunker had started to shake, he immediately knew it was Amara's doing and that it meant nothing good. Latching onto the energy of the quake, he had been able to follow it back to it's origin.

Picking himself off the floor, Castiel just managed to bring up a bright blue shield of protection to deflect the yellow lightning bolt Amara had sent at him. The intensity of the fight was rapidly depleting his energy reserves, but Castiel was determined to buy more time for the Winchesters. He knew they'd have to cast the spell still to have any chance against the Darkness.

Gathering all his remaining power, the angel produced a giant lilac bubble and sent it at Amara. He saw the energy field surrounding her, before dropping in a heap on the floor, completely spent.

Amara herself was struggling with the celestial attack. She had to deal with the powerful assault before it would zap her energy entirely and she would black out, in order to be able to escape the bubble. After long minutes she finally managed to break free, heaving with exhaustion. Looking across she saw the unconscious figure of her attacker and sat down to gather her bearings before finding those pesky humans.

*****spn*****

Sam looked up from the bowl. He had finished the spell, reciting etruscan words when he wasn't entirely sure what they meant. Only thing left was a drop of everyone's blood. Taking his silver knife in his hand, Sam made a short cut to his palm and let the crimson juice of life drop into the bowl. Dean followed suit, as did Mary, John, Samuel and Henry. The powdery substance bubbled, making a smooth liquid as soon as Henry's blood mixed with the other's.

"With the power of this shield, Darkness shall be destroyed," the hunters finished off the spell in unison and Dean dropped the two bullets into the mix. An orange flash engulfed the bowl at the same time a figure appeared at the other end of the room.

"Amara," Dean gasped, grabbing the Colt and the bullets. Amara snapped her fingers and everyone in the room froze.

"You know, Dean, I'm tired of playing games. I told you, if you don't join me willingly, little Sammy will have to pay. And pay he will. You change your mind, let me know. Until soon."

With another flash she was gone and the hunters unfroze. Dean still held the Colt and bullets in his hands, looking around frantically. 

"Sam?" He hollered, alarmed. Sam was nowhere to be seen. He'd been standing right next to him. Everyone else turned to locate the younger brother, but he was gone.

"SAM!"


	10. Chapter 10

"Sam!"

Dean shouted again, knowing full well his brother wouldn't answer him. Immediately, he started pacing up and down like an angry caged tiger. He had to find Sam. Before Amara could harm him. But how to find out where Sam was?

"Cas?"

Dean stopped pacing and tilted his head skywards, as if to locate the missing angel.

"Cas, I need you, man," Dean continued, urgency oozing from his words. "Amara has Sam and she's gonna pick him apart. Cas!"

"Dean, the bunker is warded,..." Henry tried to explain, but stopped himself the same moment Dean had turned to glare at him. Right, the angel had been inside before. They must have lifted or altered the warding. Henry lifted his hands in surrender and Dean resumed his pacing.

"Cas, if you don't get your feathery ass down here this minute, I swear I'll..." A hand on Dean's arm caused him to stop his threat and he looked at the hand followed it up until his eyes locked with his mother's.

"Maybe he can't hear you, Dean. Maybe he's out there already, looking for Sam. Maybe he's hurt, or worse." 

"I have to find Sam. _We_ have to find him. She's gonna hurt him bad, and then kill him. And then she's going to destroy us all. That's not an option. I can't let that happen."

"So, how do we find Sam?" John chimed in, looking straight at Dean.

"Cas could locate him. I mean, he's got the warding on the ribs just like me, but Sam can contact him, tip him off..." Dean closed his eyes, thinking.

"How about a locater spell?" Henry suggested.

"Look, I'm not going to drag Rowena into this," Dean shook his head. "And I'm..."

"Who's Rowena?" Samuel asked.

"A witch, but...," Dean started but Henry, uncharacteristically, cut him off. 

"We don't need a witch for this spell. All we need is an item that belongs to Sam and a drop of blood from a blood relative. From the mother works best." Henry glanced at Mary, who nodded.

"Let's do it," she replied, exposing her arm again. Henry smiled and whisked about the upended room to produce all the necessary ingredients. Soon he had everything set up and added the drops of Mary's blood.

The bowl made from ulexite obliterated its white color to somewhat transparent. Five heads came together to hover over it, eyes squinting from each, to make out the shape materializing in the magic stone. Slowly, a building was distinguishable and after a moment, Dean pushed himself off the table.

"I know where he is," he simply said and took two steps at once to head up to where the Impala was parked.

*****SPN*****

Amara was standing in the wardroom of the barracks just outside the other side of Lebanon, looking down at her unconscious hostage. Sam would come too soon enough for her to thoroughly enjoy taking him apart until he was merely a bloody mess when his brother would find them. She was certain the older Winchester brother would be crafty enough to determine their location. 

To ensure that it wouldn't be too easy for Dean to get to them, Amara has created a dense, white fog circumfering the compound. That would slow the man down as soon as he figured out where his brother was being held. As for the usual inhabitants of the baracks, they were under her control. In addition to sucking out their souls she had added a spell that gave them almost zombie-like invincibility. Sadly, most of the soldiers had been on leave but the thirteen she had transformed would do just fine. 

Thirteen. Amara kind of liked the number. Humans considered it as unlucky so it had to be lucky for her. She watched as her army went on patrol, armed to the teeth. Time to test her torture skills on Sam Winchester.

She smiled.

*****spn*****

"Dean, wait!"

John Winchester's voice boomed and reverberated in the hall like garage as Dean was about to pull open the Impala's door. Dean halted with a sigh and turned towards the approaching hunters.

"If you drive off alone, how are we going to find you?"

"Yeah, well, no way I'm gonna load up Baby with all of you. When I find Sam, I'll need space for him. Dude's a Sasquatch. Can't fit him in if there's three in the back. Go find yourself a ride here. Plenty to choose from. Keys are under the visor. Henry, hop in." 

Not waiting for a reply, Dean took place behind the wheel. Henry's eyes grew wide briefly but he swiftly followed Dean's request and claimed shotgun.

"Where are we going?" John called as Dean started up his black car, and headed towards a pale green 56' Thunderbird.

"Military compound other side of town," Dean called as the back door of Baby slammed shut, revealing Mary Winchester in the back seat. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"That car your dad is heading to is a two-seater," she shrugged and smiled. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and hit the gas. John barely waited for Samuel to get both his feet in the T-bird before starting up and trying to keep up with his oldest and follow him through the moonlit night.

That feat however was easier said than done. Night it might be but traffic in Lebanon was lively. It didn't take long for John to have lost sight of the iconic Impala tail lights.

"Damn!" John banged his hand on the steering wheel. It was Sam's life on the line and Dean drove like a maniac. "Who taught you to drive?"

"You telling me that wasn't you, John?" Samuel almost chuckled, earning himself a glare from the other man. "How did you know this tin can would drive? Those cars look like they haven't been moved in centuries."

John stared hard at the other hunter. It was obvious the man had no appreciation for a classic car. "You don't know Dean very well, do you? Any car in his supervision is _always_ in pristine condition. So careful what you say." Samuel frowned briefly and then nodded.

"I gotta say I never really saw much in you. A soldier, maybe, but a hunter, a fighter? Not so much. Right now, I'm rapidly changing my opinion."

"Am I supposed to thank you?" John raised an eyebrow but kept his gaze firmly on the street.

"Not at all," Samuel denied. "Keep right, by the way."

"Yeah, saw the sign for barracks. I'm not blind, old man," John muttered when he worked the classic car around the bend with a bit more speed than Samuel had gambled for. He had to grab hold of the door handle to prevent himself knocking into John.

"Careful who you call old, kiddo," Samuel growled. "You're not exactly sweet sixteen anymore either." He glanced outside. "You sure you'll find where Dean's heading?"

"I'm a marine. I'll always find a compound. Now hold on to your flannel, old man."

*****spn*****

Amara was scrutinizing Sam. The young hunter was glaring at her defiantly, seemingly oblivious to the chains that bound him and the wounds that decorated his bare torso. If she'd actually care for humans, she'd find his endurance and composure extremely fascinating.

"So, Sam," she almost chirped. "Think your brother will be impressed enough to say that one little word?"

Sam spat out a glob of blood and saliva before smiling crookedly at his tormentor.

"Never!"

The smile on Amara's face disappeared instantly. "That's too bad. Because then, I'll have to do this." Stretching out her arm, she balled her hand to a fist and slowly turned it around clockwise. Sam couldn't help but yell as he felt his insides being twisted. He tried so hard not to shout but he had no chance. His scream turned into a labored cough as more blood came running from his lips, dripping onto his cut up torso before some of it collected in a puddle on the ground.

An unreasonable part of his pain flooded brain rationalized that theoretically the blood from his mouth could just re-enter his body via the cuts on his chest and help ensure he wouldn't bleed to death before Dean could save him. Sam hung his head as dark spots started dancing in front of his eyes in a parade that eerily reminded him of Dumbo's intoxicated dream.

Despite himself, a weak chuckle escaped Sam's lips. Leave it to him to think of Disney movie scenes that scared the crap out of him when he was a kid, when he was bleeding out. It just testified how thoroughly screwed up he really was.

Amara was talking to him once more, but Sam couldn't make out the words. It sounded like it came from a far away warped music tape. Blood was beating in his temples like a jack hammer and Sam felt himself go into shock. His limbs became heavy and cold.

"Dean," he mumbled weakly. "Dea..."

*****spn*****

"Son of a BITCH," Dean shouted when a white wall of thick fog materialized in front of the Impala. Slowing down he carefully entered the misty air, hoping it would not be too bad. Henry and Mary exchanged a telling glance at Dean's outburst. 

It was no use. The fog was getting denser still, if that was even possible. Muttering another colorful expletive, Dean cut the engine and stormed out of his beloved car. He stalked to the trunk and popped it oped. Despite the poor visibility he knew his way around in the hidden arsenal and grabbed two handguns with a few rounds of ammunition.

Henry and Mary felt more than found their way to Dean's side and he unceremoniously shoved the weapons in their hands. Then he pocketed the Colt and grabbed his own pearl handled handgun. He scoffed briefly. There was just something about him and colts. He just hoped unlike the other times, this time he would be able to pull the trigger when facing Amara.

"Keep up," Dean said and slammed the trunk shut. Then he disappeared in the thick, white, soupy fog and left Mary and Henry to scramble after him. Dean had an exquisite sense of direction and he knew the barracks were not far off. When the fog got even denser, that he almost couldn't see his own hand in front of his eyes, he realized that in his haste he'd lost his companions.

Shrugging, he ploughed on. He couldn't afford to waste time by waiting. Sam needed him. He could feel it. His brother depended on him. Then, all of a sudden, the fog lifted and Dean found himself standing right in front of the building he knew Sam was in. Not letting another second idle on, Dean flattened against the wall and carefully pushed the door open. Glancing in, he saw a fully armed soldier, weapon at the ready, marching away from him.

When the man turned a corner, Dean stealthily snuck in, pulling the door closed again to prevent raising suspicion. He was now in a dimly lit floor that stretched up ahead but also to either side of him. The soldier had been in the passage straight on. Dean knew he wouldn't be the only guard and at the moment he didn't know whether Amara had put her whammy on them or not.

Footsteps were nearing him and Dean took cover, crouching down and bringing his own military like training into play. When he saw the soldier head on, he knew right away, Amara had built an army. The man's eyes were staring ahead, black vein-like growths sprouting from the man's neck. He was infected. With whatever darkness disease that Amara used to turn humans into zombies. Just like the croatoans all those years ago.

The footsteps grew louder. Cursing wordlessly, Dean gripped the handle of his colt tighter. Crouching down even more he snuck backwards until he reached another door. He stopped short and leaned against it. Holding the 1911 colt in front of his face, Dean closed his eyes to listened hard for any more approaching footsteps. Opening his eyes again, he glanced up and down the hallway, trying to decide what to do next. 


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel took a deep breath, still laying on the floor of the abandoned warehouse where he'd collapsed after his fight with Amara. He just hope he'd bought the boys enough time to get armed and ready. 

Sitting up, Cas still felt a bit light headed, but also sensed his powers were rapidly recharging. Being more powerful than an arch angel definitely had its perks. As soon as his head felt right, Cas transported to the bunker.

Empty. 

It was empty. No Dean, no Sam, no John, Mary, Henry or Samuel. Where were they? Had Amara gotten to them? Were they hiding?

Concentrating, Cas was trying to tune into Sam and Dean's thoughts, but all he felt was a world full of pain and anger. Maybe he could locate one of the other hunters. They weren't warded yet.

*****spn*****

Dean had just barely escaped being seen by the darkly clothed soldiers patroling the house. He'd ducked into a doorway just as one of the men had stuck his head around the corner. They were not searching, which told Dean that they didn't really expect to find anyone. At least anyone that they considered armed and dangerous.

By now he'd counted at least four armed men. Keeping a low profile, Dean silently moved through the building in search of his brother. He knew that if they decided to up their vigilance and starts a more thorough search of the house, he would be a dead man. So he just had to make sure they didn't know he was there.

But despite his stealth, he couldn't avoid detection much longer. The number of soldiers steadily increased and Dean almost collided with one of them, as he tried to sneak around a corner. His game was up. He sprinted along the hallway, the soldier hot on his heels, and dove into an open door. A bullet ricocheted from the frame and zinged past his head.

All of a sudden all lights went off. Cursing, Dean realized the soldiers must be able to use night vision gadgets and were reducing his chances to escape unscathed dramatically. Not that they had been rosy to start with.

Dean listened at the door that led to the next room. He eased the door open and slowly poked his head out. Seeing no one he relaxed a little. Muffled sounds could be heard coming from down the hall. He wasn't sure how he was going to get a look at any of these guys without being seen himself. Glancing to the left he noticed a staircase. If he made it upstairs, he could cross over from the left row of the barracks and with any luck, he might see something from the balcony that connected both rows. Dean bit down on his lower lip and made his move. He almost made it.

*****spn*****

When Henry dove out of the fog, he looked around. Dean was nowhere to be seen. Next to him, Mary stepped into the clear air and took a deep breath. Copying Henry's screening the area, she gripped her gun tighter.

"He's inside."

Just at that moment a shot echoed inside the building. With silent communication that Mary couldn't believe worked with someone she barely knew, they moved towards the door to enter.

Meanwhile John had parked the T-bird in the fog behind the Impala. Not really knowing his way around town he hadn't been able to wipe a smug grin off his face when he'd located the Chevy. Dean, Mary and Henry couldn't be far. Samuel and John headed into the fog, their firearms ready just in case.

"Told ya I'd find it," John grinned, knowing very well that Samuel couldn't see him do so. The man grunted moodily nevertheless. He was probably still peeved at being called an old man.

*****spn*****

The soldier caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and brought up his assault rifle. He yammered out a burst and the bullets hit the wall where the man had just been. He ran to the stairs and looked up. How had he missed this guy?

"MOLE IN THE HOLE, MOLE IN THE HOLE." The soldier screamed into his mic and waved to another man to cover him as he ascended the stairs. The second soldier waited for the first to go around the corner, then he followed. It was a narrow space and there wasn't much room to swing a rifle. He ducked when he heard gunfire erupt. Before he could move out of the way he was sent sprawling backwards, carried down by the weight of the first soldier. Dead eyes greeted him when he rolled the man off, bullet hole center between the eyes.

Dean had fired once at the soldier, before topping the staircase and taking off at a run down the hall. He glanced over his shoulder and when he saw no one following, he stopped to orient himself. There was a hallway to his left and he was pretty sure that it led to the bedrooms on the backside of the building. Most of those rooms had connecting doors. This was fortunate because Dean didn't want to get caught in a place that had only one way out. Now that they were aware of his presence, he would have to stay on the move.

Dean had no way of knowing how many men he was up against. He would have to be very conservative with his bullets, firing only when he had a good shot. His plan was to let them come to him and pick off as many as he could, while waiting for Mary and Henry as well as John and Samuel to enter the scene and improve his chances. Their chances. Sam's chances!

Repelling the thought that he had no real hope of getting out of this alive, Dean saw his only option at the moment to try and even the odds. Holding his breath in an attempt to calm down his racing pulse, Dean waited in the shadows.

The soldier came to a hallway that led off to the left and announced his location to the rest of the unit. Another member of his unit was advancing from the other direction and he knew there was no way the civilian was going to get past either of them. He kicked open doors as he went, glancing in quickly then retreating, looking for the slightest movement.

As the zombie soldier opened the door of the third bedroom, he saw a figure dart through the connecting door into the next room. Firing off a volley at the retreating shadow, he went back out into the hall to kick open the door to the next room. 

He fired into the room and entered, crouching low, while sweeping his rifle from left to right. He saw no one, got to his feet and backed out into the hall. There he turned left to go back into the third bedroom but was dropped where he stood, a bullet catching him just over the left eye.

Taking a moment to inspect his handywork, Dean took a deep breath. "Two down, x to go," he muttered quietly before moving on.

*****spn*****

Mary and Henry slowly moved through the dark corridors, relying on their ears more than their eyes. Distant running and shouting drew them into a certain direction. As Mary carefully rounded a corner, she backpedalled so fast that she crashed into Henry behind her and they retreated several steps.

"Contact," she whispered, raising her gun, ready to shoot. Her attempt at moving forward hadn't gone unnoticed as rapidly approaching footsteps disclosed. As soon as the soldier rounded the corner, Mary pulled the trigger, tearing a hole into the man's torso. 

Yet instead of the soldier falling down, he kept approaching, assault rifle levelled at their bodies. Mary's surprise at this didn't throw her off for long, however. Before the soldier could return fire, Mary's next bullet hit him in the eye and he went down. 

Listening for a moment, Henry and Mary were relieved not to hear any obvious noises that would mean their actions had been observed. Mary crouched down next to the downed man and after a short search she switched on the looted flash light. 

"What on earth...?" She muttered as she took in the black vained discoloration on the man's exposed neck and face. Henry, upon noticing her reaction, crouched down quickly.

"This reminds me of what I read about the Croatoan Virus," he said. "Essentially, this man was already dead. Like, a zombie."

"Okay," Mary nodded. "That explains why the bullet to the chest didn't do anything. If you have to shoot, aim for the head."

*****spn*****

As Dean rose from his crouch, he found himself facing a rifle being held by another soldier who had entered the hallway from the other direction. Both men fired simultaneously and Dean saw the soldier go down. Stumbling backward, he retreated down the hall. He felt a burning sensation above his right temple and ear and with his left hand he moved tentative fingers to the side of his head. When he brought his hand back down it was covered in blood.

"Strike one," he whispered out loud and then wiped his hand on his jeans. He'd gotten lucky, the bullet had only grazed him.

Dean was breathing very hard now, adrenalin on full throttle running through his veins. He could feel the warm blood trickle down his neck and shook his head when spots started to appear in front of his eyes. Blacking out was not an option. He'd had worse than that, he could pull through. There was a ringing in his ears and he fought the distraction as he tried to decide where he should go next.

The decision was made for him as another soldier appeared in front of him and took aim. Quickly, Dean ducked into an open room and dove behind a large bed. Gunfire sprayed the room and Dean winced as splinters of the wall where the bullets impacted came loose and hit him in the back. Dean did not have night vision goggles, but the moon was out, and enough light was coming through the windows to enable him to get around in the dark. Keeping his head down Dean waited and wondered whether more soldiers were coming. 

He knew he'd have to make a move before reinforcements showed up. The hunter glanced at the connecting door which was a good twenty feet away and then got into a sprinters crouch. Bouncing on his heels a couple of times, he then shot out from behind the bed and ran for the door.

Dean felt the sting of the bullet as it hit his leg. He went down on one knee for only a second, then he was up and running again, going from room to room through the connecting doors until he entered one that appeared to have only one way out. Dean squinted in the almost complete blackness and wiped the still flowing blood out of his eyes before making a run for the only door. 

The door was already half open, so Dean got down on his knees and then leaned out over the threshold. He threw his body out through the doorway and lying mostly on his side on the floor, he fired his weapon at the one or more soldiers that he assumed would be in the hallway.

His bullets found their mark and a soldier went down. Dean rolled onto his other side but saw no one coming in the opposite direction. He knew this kind of luck was not going to last much longer, so he got to his feet and limped off down the hall towards the right wing of the barracks.

*****spn*****

John and Samuel had finally emerged from the fog and spurred on by the repeated sound of guns fired, they quickly made their way into the barracks, where they split up. Samuel headed left while John moved right, a feeling of foreboding ever present in the marine's body.

Finding a stairway, John moved up to the next floor and immediately found himself facing a man in uniform. Something was off about the soldier and in the dim light of the moon shining through the window John could make out the eerie black veins contrasting the pale skin. Realizing he was no longer dealing with a human, John's reflexes kicked in and he pulled the trigger.


	12. Chapter 12

Amara stood over her human guinea pig, watching. Sam's breathing was shallow and rasping. His eyes were closed but Amara knew he wasn't unconscious. Close, but not out. She crouched down next to Sam's head and lowered her lips so they almost touched his ear.

"You know what, Sammy? I think Dean will say yes, just so I will fix you." 

Sam didn't react, just kept breathing, but his eyes were moving rapidly under closed lids.

"And here's the secret, Sammy. He'll say yes, but I won't fix you. I won't fix anything. Not until I have destroyed my brother. And for that, I will need _your_ brother."

Faint gun shots caused Amara to lift up her head. She listened. Just as she thought they had ceased, they picked up again, closer this time.

"Your brother is coming," she told Sam and, getting up again she turned to walk into the middle of the ward room. She didn't see Sam's eyes open ever so slightly, didn't see his lips curl up in a weak, bloody smile.

"He'll kill you," Sam whispered, barely audible.

*****spn*****

Dean advanced sideways, his back close to the wall. He had to stop several times to take deep breaths, trying to steady his nerves and quell the nausea and dizziness. He glanced down at his left leg and frowned. By the looks of it the bullet had ripped right through his calf and pain was radiating all the way up to his hip. He was sure the blood trail he left might as well be glowing like a neon sign.

"Come on, Winchester. Finish what you started," he pep talked himself. Gritting his teeth, Dean gripped his colt tighter and took a deep breath. The throbbing at his temple had been reduced to a dull pain and Dean moved on. The barracks were big, but not overly so. He'd already been through most of it, losing track on the number of rooms as well as zombie soldiers he'd killed. He had to be close to Amara.

Pushing himself off the wall, Dean followed a fork in the hallway and faced a few steps down into a kind of anteroom. It wasn't very big but made Dean's heart race nevertheless, for on the opposite end an archway style opening allowed him a view at the wardroom and in its center stood Amara. Dean made out a crumpled form on the floor behind the Darkness.

"Sam," he rasped, attention solely on his little brother. It was like everything else around him ceased to exist and he almost missed his defense.

*****spn*****

Mary and Henry had cautiously moved forward, eyes by now well used to the moonlit darkness. Reaching a staircase, Mary decided to head up, gesturing to Henry to keep moving at the ground level. Henry gave her a curt nod and flattened himself to the wall before advancing.

On top of the stairs, Mary almost stumbled over the body of a downed soldier. A circular hole in the man's forehead told her Dean had done a good job. She smiled. It was still weird for her to think of that grown man as her yet unborn son, and automatically she ran her hand over her belly.

Henry found his floor to be empty. No soldiers, no bodies, no Amara, no Sam. And, no Dean. Reaching a grossing of hallways, Henry looked to his right just in time to see the flash of a gunshot before he heard it and then, a good distance away, the muffled thud of a body dropping. 

Holding his breath, Henry waited. No running footsteps and no further gunfire lead him to the conclusion that John and Samuel must have made it inside the building. Finally the odds were evening out. Pursuing the direction he was heading in, Henry thought he could hear someone talking. Someone female. Mary was a story above him so this could only mean he was closing in on Amara.

As swift and silent as possible, Henry moved to the end of the hallway where it opened into the wardroom. Keeping close to the wall to prevent detection, the Man of Letters found a position where he could see Amara standing dead center in the room, with what had to be Sam somewhere behind her.

*****spn*****

"Sam," Dean called, a bit louder. He didn't even try to keep his presence hidden from Amara. What for? She'd probably known he was there for a good while. Why else would she have let loose the pesky zombie obstacle at him?

Crossing the anteroom as quick as possible, Dean stepped into the wardroom, but paused a few steps in. Amara snapped her fingers and all lights came back on. Sam had been laying in a bloody heap on the floor but now Dean could see his brother was looking at him.

Instinctively, Dean's hand went to the back of his jeans to pull out _the_ Colt, trading its place with his personal handgun. Weight all on his good right leg, Dean lifted his arm and aimed at Amara.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," she tutted, shaking her head. "Do you still think you can hurt me? Because even if you could pull the trigger, those bullets would merely tickle me."

"Yeah, that's what you think," Dean panted and squinted his eyes.

Amara smiled, almost relenting. "You won't be able to even try and pull the trigger." Pointedly she stared at something behind Dean, but before Dean could turn, a dark blur shot from the other entrance next to where Dean was standing. The newcomer tackled him to the ground at the very moment gunfire from an assault rifle reverberated in the room. 

Vaguely, Dean was aware of a pain in his right shoulder before he hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Whoever had tackled him was laying motionless on top of him. A noise behind him made him whirl around as fast and far as he could. A zombie soldier crumpled to the floor, curtesy to a bullet from one Mary Winchester who was standing at the entrance of the anteroom where Dean had been a few moments prior.

Relocating his gaze back to the man that had tackled him, Dean was almost afraid to find out who it was. Realizing it was Henry was almost lost in a flurry of things happening at the same time.

Footsteps running and entering the wardroom, Amara flicking out her arm, his mother and the new arrivals being flung into the wall behind them and sliding to the ground, unconscious. Dean took a deep breath as it dawned on him that he was the only one he could rely on taking Amara out. Mary, John and Samuel were all out cold on the floor. Sam wasn't in any shape to help him either. Cas was still awol and Henry... Dean sighed and gently pushed his grandfather's body off his legs.

An annoyingly insistant sound filled the wardroom and it took Dean a moment to realize Amara was laughing. She was laughing and all it did was make Dean want to kill her even more. Ignoring all pain from his leg, his shoulder and his head and pushing aside the dark spots threatening to screw up his vision, Dean once more lifted his right arm, ignoring the pain from the latest bullet hole, aiming the Colt at Amara's chest.

"You know, Dean, this is getting mighty old." Amara actually sounded ticked off. "Don't you know when you're fighting a losing battle? Even if you could kill me, Sam is as good as dead. Castiel is dead. The only one who could save Sam would be me. And I don't think I'd be much in the mood to do so if you're shooting at me."

Dean's arm was wavering slightly, but he didn't lower it. Shaking her head, Amara moved her wrist and Sam was airborn, suspended a few meters above the floor, blood dripping from his mostly limp body. 

"Again. Shoot at me, and he's dead." Amara closed her fist and Sam was grunting in pain. Dean's vision turned red. 

Without conscious thought, his finger on the trigger tightened. Once more he corrected his aim, using his good left arm to steady the wounded right, then all the fury Dean was feeling was focused into one action.

The trigger tightened. The bullet released. 

"Go to hell, bitch," Dean muttered as the trajectory tore through Amara's chest, right where the Mark was. Looking down to where she was hit, Amara sported a surprised look on her face. This hurt. It shouldn't hurt.

A thud followed by a groan meant Sam had fallen to the ground. She couldn't hold on to her powers anymore. Her chest looked like there was a fire burning inside, eating her up, tearing her apart. With effort she moved her eyes up to look at Dean. The Colt was falling from his hands and he was swaying. He shouldn't have been able to hurt her. This was all wrong.

"Cas, need you," she still heard Dean rasp as the man fell to his knees. Then everything went black in front of her eyes. The sensation like something was ripped from her was the last thing she felt as she exploded into a giant cloud of black dust.

*****spn*****

Castiel was tuning into angel radio, but it was mainly silent. Not like he expected to hear any news about Dean's whereabouts. Most of his brothers were no fan of the hunter and his brother.

Closing his eyes, Cas tried to use his powers to feel out any supernatural activity in the area of Lebanon but before he'd even finished focusing, he heard it.

"Cas, need you."

"Dean!" Dean prayed to him. Called him. Finally he had a go to place and within a nano second Cas appeared in front of the wounded hunter.

Dean looked battered, down on his knees, swaying like a ship in a hurricane. Fine black dust covered the ground all around them and Castiel took a moment to take everything in. 

Upon seeing him, Dean managed a weak smile that despite all the blood and grime managed to light up his eyes.

"Fix Sam," Dean whispered. Then his eyes rolled up and Cas could just about catch him before he hit the ground.

"Carnage," a deep voice behind the angel stated. Whirling around, Cas stopped hard when he saw who had appeared behind him.

"You?!"


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel recovered quickly from his surprise at the new arrival and instantly let his angel blade slide down into his hand. The newcomer slowly shook his head.

"You know that won't kill me, right? To do that you need this," -he nodded at the scythe he was holding in his left hand- "and the Mark of Cain." At this the man pulled up his black suit pant revealing the familiar Mark above his right ankle.

"I won't let you take Dean," Castiel said, carefully letting go of his unconscious friend and getting to his feet. "...or Sam. How are you even alive?"

Death smiled. "It's a story about balances. Quite boring, to be honest. Let's settle on that I am. You don't need to know any more. And, to settle your twitching fingers, I am not here for the Winchesters. Not for those two, anyways."

Castiel's gaze came to rest on Henry. "I can fix him," he replied, angel blade still firmly gripped.

"That you can, Castiel," Death nodded pensively. "But you won't."

"Why?" Castiel glared at Death. Death sighed.

"Do you remember what you told Dean before you started to travel through time and space to pick these people," Death pointed at the still unmoving hunters, "from their respective places? You told him you would have to return them to the exact same spot."

"I remember," Castiel said stoically.

"Good. Then you remember Henry was dying when you took him. As he is, now. If you save him, you'll have to kill him when you return him."

Castiel lowered his gaze, thinking. Death had a point.

"No!" 

Both Castiel and Death looked to the side, seeing John Winchester pushing himself up on his knees. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and willed himself up to his feet. Slowly he walked up to the two non-humans.

"I have no idea who you are," John rasped, looking Death squarely in the face, "but you seem to know a lot." Death pulled one corner of his mouth into a lenient smile.

"You could say that."

"Then you know I never had the chance to know my father nor say farewell to him. I... understand that he will go, and believe me, before this angel showed up with the current version of my son," John glanced briefly at Dean's bloodied face, "I would have fought nail and tooth to kill you just to save my family." John paused. "If there's a way I can have a few minutes to talk to him, I'd... appreciate it."

Death regarded the battered looking hunter, face contorted in discomfort. Then he sighed.

"You know it won't matter. Whatever you tell him now, neither he nor you will remember when you're back where you belong."

John took a deep breath. Then he nodded. "I know. But believe me, it matters."

Death studied John for another moment before speaking. "I can see where Dean got his stubborness from. You got five minutes." With that he turned around and walked away, motioning to Castiel to follow. The angel hesitated but eventually complied, stepping away.

"You know, Castiel, you should really heed Dean's words and fix Sam, else I will have to reap him after all."

Wordlessly, the angel knelt down besides Sam and held his hands over the badly wounded man. Amara had hurt him good already, and the fall from about ten feet off the ground hadn't improved Sam's condition at all. A bright, silvery glow came from Castiel's hands and he used his recharged grace to heal every injury to Sam's body. Finally, only the blood stains on Sam's clothes were testimony to the ordeal he endured.

Approaching footsteps caused the angel to lift his head and he saw Mary Winchester joining him. She looked down at her younger son, who was still oblivious to the world around.

"Is he alright?" Mary wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.

"Yes. He is fully healed. But he's still sleeping."

"And Dean?" Mary's hand again came to rest on her belly. 

"Dean will be alright. He is safe in your womb," Castiel replied. Mary blushed slightly.

"You know I was talking about him there." She nodded at the prone form next to where John was talking quietly to a dying Henry.

"Yes, I know. I just thought you might want to know he has taken no harm in your time, too."

*****spn*****

"Dad, I'm sorry."

Henry opened his eyes at those word, blinking a few times until the world around him came in focus. His grown son was kneeling next to him, a sad smile on his face and his hand wrapped in one of his own.

"John, don't...," Henry replied weakly. Unlike John, who had years upon years to live with the events, for Henry it had just been a few days since he'd kissed his son good-bye in his bed. The way things happened afterwards, he still was wondering if he wasn't dreaming, perhaps. One day he was a young father, the next he meets his fully grown grandsons, and then his adult son, daughter-in-law and her father. All of them hunters. Oh, not to forget the angel.

"Dad...," John started again, tears prickling in his eyes at seeing his father in pain, dying, looking like the day he'd last seen him as a young boy. And there was nothing he could do about it. He'd seen enough, lived through enough, to know he could do nothing this time. A hand rested on John's shoulder. Looking up, he saw his Mary, squeezing his shoulder with a sad look in a comforting gesture. He blinked and nodded his thanks.

"Johnny," Henry whispered. "I am sorry.... that I couldn't return. That you must have felt I abandonned you. I never wanted that. You grew up well. Your sons grew up well. I'm... proud of you!"

"I'm sorry to interrupt this rather touching scene," Death said as he stepped up to them. "But it is time."

John nodded and then looked at his father one last time. "I love you, dad!"

Death touched his hand to Henry's arm and they vanished. John stood up, stretching to his full height and felt himself being wrapped in Mary's arms. He savoured the feel for a moment. Then his gaze fell on his first born son, laying still and bloodied on the ground 

"Do I have to make an appointment for you to fix him, too?" He growled at the angel. Castiel looked from him to Dean.

"Of course not," he replied and kneeled down next to Dean. A moment later, just like Sam earlier, Dean seemed to glow in a silvery light. Then all wounds were healed. As the angel straightened up, Mary went to her knees besides her son.

"Dean?" She called, patting his cheek gently. Dean moaned. His eyelids fluttered and then opened. Mary smiled. Dean looked at her and briefly reciprocated her smile. Then his eyes wandered over to John and Cas, taking in the figure of Samuel getting to his feet behind his parents. 

Finally Dean's gaze came to rest on his brother. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, when a figure flickered into focus next to Sam. Dean's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet, rushing at the figure.

"You stay away from him, you son of a bitch!" 

"Dean!" Cas called, but Dean didn't listen. Just before he reached his brother and the threat to him, Cas materialized in between them, causing Dean to almost collide with the angel. Dean's eyes narrowed angrily.

"Get out of my way, Cas. It's not Sam's time to go!"

"No, it isn't, Dean," Death replied. "I'm not here for Sam. I believe Castiel has already healed him. He's fine."

Confusion washed over Dean's stubbled face. "Then why are you here? How are you even...?"

"Alive?" Death finished. Dean nodded. John, Mary and Samuel had stepped closer to the trio and Sam. "I am not alive, Dean. I never was. I'm Death. Being alive is a paradox that wouldn't work."

"But I... the scythe," Dean didn't know how to pick the correct words.

"You didn't kill me. You sent me away, and in my place, the Darkness rose. If she hadn't risen, the world would have been at an imbalance. All life would have perished."

Dean swallowed as Death elaborated about the world's balance. On the ground, Sam began to stir. Death looked down at him.

"I believe this conversation requires more comfortable surroundings," he declared and clapped his hands. Everything turned black and the hunters felt a sickly tingling in their guts before all light returned and they found themselves back at the bunker.

*******

Dean looked around, seeing Sam and his parents, as well as Samuel standing around the world map table. Death looked around and proceeded to take a seat, looking at the hunters expectantly. John and Mary, as well as Samuel followed his example. Sam just stared at everyone bewildered.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked pointedly.

"Oh I believe he is capable of getting himself back here, archangel that he is. I wonder if Lucifer enjoys being imprisoned inside that vessel," Death pondered.

"He doesn't," Cas' voice stated calmly behind Dean, who spun around like stung by a bee, staring right at the tip of Castiel's nose.

"For fuck's sake, Cas, haven't you still learned about personal space? Get. Out. Of. My..."

"I was never in..."

"Shut up," Dean sighed and pulled up a chair to sit down wearily. "Now what was that lesson about balance?" 

Death looked around. All the hunters, including the angel, were sitting around the table, attention trained on him. The ghost of a smile flickered across his usually emotionless face. He got up and slowly walked around as he talked.

"There was a time when the Darkness and the Light lived in balance. That changed when the Darkness became unreasonably annoyed with her brother's obsession to create things... and beings. He was more interested in his creations than in her and she grew bitter. Their altercations became so violent, that he saw no other way for keeping the peace, but to lock her up."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, and I unlocked her."

"Stop, Dean. It was as much my fault as it was y...," Sam fell in before trailing off to Death lifting his hand, gesturing for silence.

"It was meant to be," he simply said. "Soon after he locked her away, he noticed vegetation wilting, creation suffering. Realizing what was going on, he contemplated letting her free. But she threatened to destroy everything he created. So he kept the lock and found a substitute for her."

"I suppose that's you," John said. Death nodded.

"Light can only be with darkness. So, locking her away meant he had unbalanced the scales. He came to me and asked me to take over, to keep the balance. I agreed, on one condition." Death paused and walked a few steps until he came to the only untaken chair and sat down. "I wanted to hold the key."

"The Mark," Sam nodded. "The Mark is the key, isn't it?"

"Give the boy a cookie," Death said, eyebrows raised almost mockingly. Sam glared at him, annoyed. 

"So if the Mark is the key...," Dean pondered loudly, "that would make you the lock."

"Who ever told you Sam is the smart one?" Death taunted. Mary opened her mouth but didn't speak. "I was getting bored. Reaping souls was one thing, but it can become rather tiring. Most came along willingly. Others came up with all sorts of deals trying to save their lives." At this he pointedly looked at Dean, who blinked once, but held his stare. "I decided to make things interesting and with his consent, I separated the key from the lock."

"You passed the Mark on to Cain," Sam and Dean said in unison, causing John, Mary and Samuel to exchange meaningful looks.

"Yes. Hence the name. You all know why Cain was chosen and what the Mark eventually did to Cain, though. He managed to overcome it, to control it. For centuries. Until you, Dean."

It was quiet in the bunker. The hunters were waiting for Death to continue. Death was looking for a reaction in Dean. But Dean stoically returned Death's stare. Finally, the dark creature picked up again.

"You took the Mark, killed Cain, and slowly fell prey to it's dark spell. I must say, I commend you. You fought it admirably. But it was only a matter of time, especially after it kept you, ummm, let's say, some kind of alive. Your brother curing you was just postponing the inevitable."

"And then, in the diner, lock and key met," said Dean. "You knew what was going to happen, didn't you?" Death nodded. "You knew and you tried to make me kill Sammy. Guess you found out the hard way that nothing can make me take my brother's life!"

"The moment my scythe disintegrated me, swung by the bearer of the Mark, Amara got unlocked. I was sidelined. To make a long story short... when you shot Amara with the spell upgraded bullets of THE Colt, it wouldn't have killed her had you not shot her through the Mark. That activated the key, and the scales were flipped. She was gone, I was back. And the world's still in balance."

"Where's the Mark now?" Dean asked.

Death pulled up the leg of his pants. "This way, even if I want to flip the coin, I can't. If my scythe destroys the Mark, it won't be 'fatal' to me. Unless of course one day I decide to pass on the Mark again."

"Well, let's hope that never happens," mumbled Samuel. "I haven't had an idea about any of this but from what I witnessed in this time, it wasn't a walk in the park."

"It was rather interesting, though," Death stated. "But now, I'd say, you all have messed up the time and space continuum more than enough. Castiel, I believe it's time you returned everyone to their rightful places."

Castiel nodded and got up.

"Wait," called Sam. "Does it have to be a rush? At least give us a few moments still. To talk. To... say good-bye?"

"I don't see why that would be necessary," Castiel spoke up. "They won't remember any of it, for I have to wipe their memories."

"Yes, Cas, we know. But 'we' will remember," Dean insisted.

"I could...," Castiel started.

"Don't you dare, Cas. I swear to you I'll pluck your feathers and stuff you like a turkey," Dean threatened and Sam snorted softly. Looking up, Dean saw everyone, including Death, had a smile playing around their lips.

"That reminds me," Death said, pulling something out of his pocket. He walked over to John and held out his hand. Hesitantly, John took the proffered item. It was a coin. "Your father gave this to me before I took his soul. Said to pass it on to you, that is was passed on to him by his father, and grandfathers before." Heads stuck together to inspect the ancient looking coin. "I can assure you there is nothing to it but a family icon of good luck."

John hated himself for his eyes watering. His father had shown him the coin before he disappeared. He'd explained its sentimental value and told the boy he'd get it on his 21st birthday.

"Thank you," he choked out and cleared his throat. "That is a memory you won't be able to take."


	14. Chapter 14

John Winchester closed his hand around the coin and held it tight, before placing it in an inside pocket of his jacket. Death nodded and walked a few steps.

"Castiel, I trust you return these three people back in their times before the sun rises," he explained and pulled the scythe up to his side. 

"Yes," the angel simply replied with a nod.

"Alright. Then I dare say I hope to not see you again anytime soon, boys. Because the next time we'll meet, I will have to reap you." 

With that Death vanished.

"Wow," Mary exhaled. "Death really doesn't like you," she said, looking at her sons.

"Oh, he likes us alright," Dean chuckled. "He only doesn't like us messing with his job."

"Dean," Sam hissed, shaking his head disapprovingly. Dean just shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

"So, Castiel," John cleared his throat. "Do we still get a moment or are you going to take us back right away?"

"I should," Cas replied. "But I know Sam and Dean would want to talk a bit still, and the sun's not coming up for another few hours."

"Great," Sam rubbed his hands together briefly. "Then maybe y'all can fill me in on what happened after we spell proofed the bullets. I'm kinda drawing a blank. The only thing I gathered from Death and his little talk is... you did it, Dean. You killed Amara and saved the world - again."

"Dammit Sammy, don't make me sound like a freaking hero here. I was just cleaning up my own mess..." Dean was flustered somewhat.

" _Our_ mess," Sam corrected.

"Whatever," Dean shrugged. "Right. What do you remember?"

Sam sighed and sat on the big table, dangling his legs like a small child for a moment. Then he crossed them at the ankles.

"Earthquake. Cas disappeared. You were out cold. Then Henry... wait, what happened to him, by the way? What Death said... he's gone?"

"My father was fatally wounded, protecting Dean," John chimed in. "This Death person already returned him to where he came from and reaped him. From what I understand he was dying there, too?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

"Well, couldn't you have fetched him before he was dying? Cas here volunteered to heal him but since he was dying where he was taken, he'd have had to take his life again." John's face betrayed his inner turmoil. He was sure his sons would have done it differently if possible, but he just had to know for sure.

"Sadly, no, dad," Sam looked down. "You know, we only had a short time of knowing him. When he... time travelled into our lives, he did it to protect this bunker. He was looking for you. But you were... gone. So, his spell took him to us. Blood to blood, you know."

John's eyes grew wide, then he nodded slowly. "Okay," he rasped.

"When Henry appeared, he was being followed. Abaddon... she wanted that key to the bunker. She fatally wounded him after he set up a trap that allowed us to defeat her and keep the key safe,"  Dean continued.

"Abaddon?" John and Mary asked in unison. Samuel raised an eyebrow.

"A knight of hell. Like, a demon, only worse," Sam explained. Dean blinked for a moment before taking over once more.

"No matter when we would have fetched him, dad, he would have died in that incident."

"You see, when Henry found his grandsons instead of his son, and discovered we were hunters, he didn't like us much. The men of letters, apparently they didn't think much of hunter methodes," Sam supplied.

"He called us apes," Dean muttered.

"I... didn't get that impression from him at all," John frowned. What did he miss?

"Henry changed his mind about hunters when we helped with Abaddon. That's why he volunteered to set up the trap. And eventually died for us. We could only fetch him at a point in time where he trusted us."

John nodded. "I think I understand."

Sam smiled briefly. "Alright. So... what else do I remember? Oh, Henry showing us the unicorn dust and us performing the spell."

"Okay," Dean inclined his head. "Amara took you. She kinda abducted you and we had no idea where to find you because Cas here was still awol."

"I had fought Amara to buy you time to perform the spell," Cas defended himself from the accusation in Dean's voice. "When the earthquake hit, I caught a glimpse of where Amara was hiding out. I got there and we faced off. I did the best I could, I was close to defeating her, but eventually she overpowered me. When I had recharged my grace sufficiently I came to the compound as soon as I heard your prayer."

Dean blinked again, then nodded at the angel. "Yes. Thank you for that, and for healing Sam. Henry knew a blood spell to locate Sam so we drove to the compound and fought the most epic battles of all," Dean explained dramatically.

"Dean!" Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes. Mary chuckled.

"From what I've seen I can only say he's right, Sam. Your brother battled his way through a compound filled with zombie like soldiers that all wanted to kill him. He was wounded badly but he still ploughed on and eventually he killed that evil woman, even though she threatened to kill you."

Sam looked at his brother who averted his gaze after a few moments, clearly uncomfortable.

"Dean," Sam started. "You're gonna have to get into detail there... just what went down? I have to know."

"Later, Sam. I might tell you the fairy tale before I tuck you in, bugger," Dean recovered and deflected with a trademark sarcastic grin. "Right now this reminds me, Cas, I need you to get me back to my Baby. Can't leave her out there unprotected."

"I could just...," Cas started but not for the first time in that day, Dean cut him off.

"I'm not gonna let my Baby be mojo-ed around, Cas. How about you zap us," Dean motioned to Sam and their parents, "to the cars and take Samuel there home?"

Samuel nodded. "Yeah. Good plan. I'm ready to go back to my normality. It seems less like a headache than this place," he joked. "John? I know you always thought I didn't think you were good enough for my daughter. And you were right. But I know things now that I had no idea of then. You're a good man!"

John smiled and went to shake Samuel's hand. "Thank you, Sir. Much appreciated."

"Right Cas... could you, please?" Dean looked at the angel. 

"Of course," Castiel nodded. Touching the four hunters to their foreheads, sending them back to the compound, he then turned to Samuel. "Let's go."

 

*****spn*****

 

"No matter how often I travel angel airlines, I will never get used to the weird sensation in the pit of my stomach," Dean said and resisted the urge to shake himself like a wet dog. Then he saw his car and walked up to her. "Hey, Baby, did you miss me?"

Sam just shook his head, smiling, earning himself a somewhat reproachful look of Mary. He shrugged.

"What? Dad never used to talk to that car like Dean does. It's a car."

John chuckled and Mary glanced from him to Sam and then Dean. "No, he didn't. But I did. That car is a sweetheart." Sam's eyes grew wide like saucers at her words. Mary grinned and took John's hand in hers, pulling him to the Thunderbird parked behind the Impala. "Guess we'll take this beauty home, eh?"

When they reached the car, John gently spun Mary around, leaning her against the door and stepping closer to her.

"I know I'm not the John you know," he started. "But, you're the Mary I know and love... and I've been missing you all these years so very, very much. I..."

John couldn't finish what he was trying to say because Mary pulled him close and kissed him on his lips. "You are the same John," she told him. "I can see it. And feel it. And I love you, too." This time he responded to the kiss and for a moment everything around them disappeared.

"Don't have too much fun," Dean called over from the Impala, "or I'll take the T-Bird away."

John and Mary both looked at their older son and chuckled when he winked at them. "I didn't know you listen to the Beach Boys, Dean," Mary laughed.

"Classic, like these cars. Let's head home. Try not to crash the T-Bird, dad," Dean laughed and sat in his car where Sam was already waiting.

 

*****spn*****

 

Cas was waiting in the bunker when the family returned. Dean walked right up to him when he saw him while Sam hung back with his parents, chatting.

"Look, Cas, thank you for all you've been doing to help here. Really appreciate it."

"You don't have to thank me, Dean," Cas replied. "You might have been just an order for me to follow when I pulled you from hell, but your brother and you taught me about free will, thinking for myself instead of following orders without question. You all feel like family."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. About that. I know Death said you have to wipe their memories, but can't you just do something? Like... make them remember parts, kinda like a dream?" He looked hopeful.

"Technically I could," Cas replied. "But I shouldn't."

"Damn, Cas, what happened to free will?" Dean all but pleaded. Cas stared at him, then at the three other Winchesters.

"Alright, Dean," he then said. Dean grinned happily.

"You're not half bad... for an angel, you know."

Cas blinked and then returned Dean's smile. Sam, John and Mary walked over to them and Dean quickly steeled his expression to neutral, eager not to give away too much of his feelings.

"We're ready to return home," Mary announced, running her hand over Dean's arm. Dean turned towards her and enveloped her in a big hug.

"You take care of yourself, mom," Dean said, kissing her on the cheek. "We're gonna miss you."

"I know, Dean," Mary replied, a tear running down her face. "I know I won't remember this, but I'm proud to see our boys turned out perfect, right John?"

"Right," John confirmed.

They all hugged and then Cas touched his fingers to Mary's forehead and the two disappeared. The three Winchester men stood in silence for a moment.

"Okay, boys. I take it your angel will be back soon," John said, fumbling with his jacket pocket. Then he took Dean's hand in his and closed his son's fingers around the coin he had just received from his father. 

"What are you doing, dad?" Dean asked.

"You've heard that the coin gets passed on from father to son. I'm passing it on, now." John smiled and then looked at Sam. "Look after your brother, Sam."

"Dad," Dean frowned, staring at the coin in his palm. "I can look after myself."

"I know, Dean. I always told you to look out for Sammy. It's just fair I tell him to do the same for once." John slapped Dean's shoulder and then smiled at his boys. "I see Cas is back. So this is good bye, I guess."

The boys turned to see Cas a few steps behind them. Cas nodded to Dean, who nodded back. Sam stepped up to John and hugged him, before moving back to let Dean do the same.

"Good bye, dad," Sam said as John walked up to Cas and the two vanished.

It was quiet in the bunker for a few minutes as neither brother moved nor spoke, both lost in their own thoughts and musings. Then Dean cleared his throat and turned to walk towards the kitchen.

"Care for a cold one, Sam?"

Sam followed him and grabbed the bottle when Dean held it out to him. Taking a seat at the table, the brothers kicked up their legs and took a sip of ice cold beer.

"To family," Sam said, holding out his bottle for Dean to clink it.

"Family don't end with blood," Dean replied and the boys grinned. "Cas, get your feathery ass back here and drink with us."

"I don't require nourishment," Cas deep voice replied as he materialized in the room, but he took the bottle anyways. "But I like the way the bubbles tickle my throat. What is it you say? Cheers!"

The brothers laughed and finished their bottles.

"You know, Dean, I always thought you were just like dad. Turns out you're just like mom," Sam pondered.

"What? Because I call my car Baby?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Not just that," Sam chuckled.

"Yeah well, you're just like dad in that regard. That's why you two always clashed so badly," Dean replied.

"At least I take after a guy, not a chick," Sam grinned teasingly. Dean glared at him, knowing good and well his brother was only joking.

"Says the dude with long hair, bitch!"

"Love you, too, jerk!"

 

 

**t h e E N D**

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with the story even though it took me a good while to complete it. Hope you had a much fun reading as I had writing ♡


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